


Give Me A Smile

by catsaremyboyfriend



Series: This Is Not A Harley Quinn Story [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, It's Really Old But I Love It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look, it took me forever to rewrite this. Read it for my sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mal Reynolds

He’s coming for me. For us. All of us. I can hear him, muttering softly to himself as he creeps down the hallway. “I can, I can HEAR your fear, kiddies. Come out, ha!, don’t you want to _play_? Let me teach you a little game! I guarantee you’ll just, just be, ha!, dying of laughter!”  
There’s silence for a little, and I press closer to my classmates. For once they don’t flinch away, more afraid of the men outside than of my face. His footsteps grow nearer. “Come out! COME OUT NOW!” He growls, voice rising. As he comes closer I close my eyes and pray for Batman.  
Batman doesn’t come. The Joker throws the door open, scarred lips cracking into a delighted smile. “THERE you all are! Now come on, come on, don’t be sad! Smile! I just have, I _need_ , to have some attention from a certain cloaked, haha, _rodent_ , if you, hoo!, catch my drift. But he’s _ignoring_ me...”   
The Joker mocks a pout, and turns away from us before spinning back with a grin, twisting a knife between his fingers. “Maybe a little, haha, loss of life will bring him back to me. I’m so, well, well, _bored_ , ya see?” His eyes search the room and land on a girl named Tanya, who had once called me an ugly freak to my face. “Ah, here we go. Look at those big eyes! Don’t be scared, now. It’ll all be over in one.....little.....cut....” He cuts her throat with practiced ease, letting her body slip to the floor before he straightens.  
People are crying now, and one girl screams shrilly. “Alright then, folks, who’s....” The Joker stops talking when his gaze lands on me. I’m hunched over in the back corner. It’s not that I’m so beautiful that I take his breath away. I wasn’t pretty before the attack, and I’m definitely not pretty now. It’s the scars on my face.  
When I was sixteen, my mom racked up some gambling debts. The Mob came, killed my father, ripped my mouth open from ear to ear, and cut my throat. I lived but it damaged my throat, leaving me with a deep, gravelly voice that’s easy for people to mock. The scars make them to fear me.

The Joker skips through all my classmates to crouch in front of me, chuckling softly. “Look, look at _you_! Aren’t you just the most beautiful, broken thing I’ve ever seen! Lovely scars, lovely, I’m jealous! Haha!” He runs gloved fingers across my lips, then throws his head back and cackles. “Hey! Hey! I’ll, ha!, show you mine since you showed me _yours_.”   
He taps the knife on his scars and grins at me. My stomach churns. Up close the Joker is younger than I thought, the makeup cracking at the corners of his eyes. He smells like smoke. He keeps talking, running fingers along my scars the whole time. “What’s your NAME?”

I open my mouth, trying to force the words out. “Q-Quinn.” 

The Joker thrusts his face near mine, so close our noses bump. “Hoo boy! Nice to meet you, Quinn. I’m, haha, JOKER. Maybe you’ve, eh, heard of me?” I nod, feeling even sicker. The scent of blood is starting to fill the room. He jumps up and grabs my arm, making me stand with him. “Sorry to end the show so early, but I’ve got better things to, ha, do now.”   
The Joker tosses a playing card into the room and strides out door. “Tell that...rodent I say hello!”

 

The hallway is quiet, the only noises our footsteps and his occasional cackle. “But, please....” 

I don’t get the words out before he stops me. “No buts! I would hate to, aha!, have to add more scars to a face like that!” I shut up quickly.

 

The Joker leads me through tunnel after alley after sewer, until I’m panting, sweat down my temples. His grip never loosens on my wrist. I’m not a small girl, but I have a feeling the Joker could easily lift me or push me over. He mutters to himself the whole time, letting out a soft laugh at whatever he finds funny.   
I know I’m in trouble, but tears and shaking haven’t come yet. I just feel numb. The Joker stops so suddenly that I bump into him, making us both stumble forward. I jump away, but he backhands me across the face so hard I feel my neck crack. He stares at me for a moment, something even stranger than usual in his eyes. “Why so serious?” he demands suddenly, making me jump.

“What?” “Give me a _smile_ , let me see those SCARS _stretch_!” He cackles again, then picks me up and holds me against the wall, a knife to my throat. “SMILE for me, girl!” he growls.  
I do, feeling tears fall down my face. The weight of him against me makes it hard to breathe, and the knife is cutting into my skin. He looks at me smile and calms down again. “Aw, now you’re crying? Not funny at all, is it?” he asks, leaning forward to lick a tear from my scars.  
I freeze and try to send my mind off to a different place, any place. I’m very good at that. The Joker sets me down though, slipping the knife away and grabbing my wrist again. “Hoo boy! Well, _that_ was fun, but we have, ha, places to be, people to mutilate!” He sets off at a faster pace and drags me along, laughing hysterically whenever I trip.

 

The Joker lives in the Narrows, in a cramped apartment building. He has a bed in one corner with a tattered suitcase under it. There’s even a toothbrush and makeup scattered around his bathroom sink. It’s weird, almost unsettling, to think of the Joker doing something as mundane as brushing his teeth.   
While I’m standing there he sneaks up behind me, presses a knife to my ear. I yelp and jump, which makes him laugh. “Now...now, Quinn. Quinn, you’re gonna have to stay with me, kay? Just consider this, ah, a bit of a speed bump on our road to trust, eh?” “What?” I’m more confused than scared for a second, until he slips a handcuff over my wrist and clasps the other one to the bed.  
“Sorry, but, eh, can’t let a lady like you escape. No. No. Wouldn’t do.” He pats my cheek lightly. “Now, sit.” I do. I’ve always been pretty obedient. The Joker leaves to the kitchen and I hear a clatter of pots and pans with the occasional mad chuckle.  
I do my best to get out of the cuffs while he was gone, but all it does is rub my wrist raw. He returns with food and eyes me. “Quinn, look what you did to your wrist! Naughty naughty!” The Joker hands me a bowl of cereal. Before I can even get a taste he jumps up and pulls it from my hands, sending milk sloshing onto the floor.

“Hey! Fuck-” I pause when I remember who I’m about to insult. 

“No, NO. I’m not ready for dinner yet! I need to wash off my face! Hehe, can’t forget _that_!” He scurries from the room and turns on water.

A few minutes later he comes back without the makeup. It’s a striking difference, and I wonder how many people have seen him like this. He looks a lot younger cleaned up, green hair pushed off his face. Still scares the hell out of me though. I close my eyes and pretend I can’t see him. “How old are you, eh, Quinnie?” 

The Joker is standing in front of me, tossing a knife from palm to palm. He grins, but it’s not as terrifying without the makeup. At least the scars around his mouth are familiar, almost comforting. They matched what I see in the mirror every day. “Uh, I’m eighteen.” 

He tilts his head and chuckles. “Then, uh, why’re you hidin’ from me like a kid? The, eh, haha, the _monster_ is still there even when your eyes are _shut_.” I swallow and nod. He gets on his knees in front of me, pushing his face close to mine. The Joker still smells like smoke. “ _Or_ is it the, hehe, SCARS?” Then he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “Oh, sorry. I guess you wouldn’t be scared, eh?” He licks his lips and keeps staring at me. “So, I finally get to ask this question to somebody, eh, ah, Quinn, I wanna know how you got those _scars_.”

“Mom’s gambling debt. The Mob, uh, thought that killing my dad and scarring me would make her pay,” I blurt out, hoping to lose his full attention as fast as I can. Although the Joker seems slightly less insane in his own home, that isn’t saying much.

“What about your _throat?_ ” He asks, tapping it with a finger. I flinch, which makes him laugh. 

“They ended up thinking it would be better to kill me.”

The Joker pushes himself up and sits where he’d left his cereal. “You got any other scars? Eh, I’ll haha, show you _mine_.” He winks, looking like a normal person for just a second. He can’t be older than thirty. 

It makes me brave. “Why, why can’t I go home?” The Joker pauses, spoon halfway to his mouth. I hurry out a quick, “Uh, sir.” 

He grins so wide I can see his molars and throws the spoon at me. It thunks against my forehead and falls on my lap. “Sir! Ha! No, no, no. _Sir_ was my father. And I hated my father,” he growls out. Then his face changes again. “Just call me Joker. And you can’t leave because, um, you’re fun.” 

I stare at him. “Huh?” The Joker gets up and sits in front of me, rubbing my scars with his fingers again. This time he isn’t wearing gloves, and the feeling of bare flesh on my scars is unsettling. “No, see, Quinn, you’re a very _unusual_ lady. Lots and lots of fun. You can, uh, help me with the boredom. Ha! And, I’ll blow up a building for ya. Maybe kill a few people in your name. Quinn, I’ll bring Batsy’s head on a platter to ya.”

I goggle at him like an idiot. “Uh...”

“And, if you, you start to get boring, I guess I’ll, haha, kill you. But don’t worry, Quinnie. Just....smile. I bet that could entertain me _forever_.” 

He laughs as he says this, but he holds a knife to my throat. “Wha...What?”

I whisper, feeling scared and confused. He kisses my scars and stands up. “Don’t be so, um, _down_. I’m not that, haha, SCARECROW. I don’t play with your mind. I just...do things.”

I shudder at his mention of Scarecrow, who scares me more than anything. I was down in the Narrows when he released his fear toxin, and I saw what it did to people before I caught it myself. I still dream of that night. Joker might slit my throat and keep laughing, but at least he can’t trap me inside my own nightmares. 

“I’m glad you’re not Scarecrow,” I mumble. 

He grins and starts cackling again, so hard he ends up rolling on the floor. “Oh, _that’s_ a new one. Poor guy, he’ll be so disappointed to, ha, know that he lost a beauty like you to me!”

I finish my cereal and place it on the floor beside me. “Thank you.” I instantly feel stupid .The Joker just laughs. Of course. 

 

The Joker decides it’s bedtime about thirty minutes later. It’s around three in the morning. “Now you’re, ah, gonna sleep on this, haha, floor here. And if you wake me up, I’ll make a, ha!, new scar for every hour I couldn’t _sleep_.”

“O-Okay.” I nod quickly and lay down, hoping I won’t have to use the bathroom during the night.

 

I have a nightmare that night. It’s kind of to be expected, considering my situation. But it isn’t Joker I dream about. It’s Scarecrow, and the faces of people around me as they all lost their minds. I wake up to the Joker’s cackling. He’s leaning over the edge of the bed, laughing at me. “You, ah, you’re entertaining when you, ha, DREAM!” His expression darkens.  
“But you woke me up, so....” He produces a knife out of nowhere. “Give me your arm.” I want to run away, heart pounding as he watches me with glittering eyes. 

“Please...” I beg.

“Aw, Quinn, I’m only doing this to protect you,” he promises softly, giving me a smile that’s almost normal. 

“But...”

“If you, uh, annoy me too much, what if I snap? I don’t, ha, want to kill something like you.” He keeps his hand on my face, and I don’t even notice him take my wrist until he lets out a loud cackle that makes me jump. I can’t get away after that.  
The Joker rolls on top of me and stops my kicking. “Let’s see...oh, I could’ve slept about...six more hours. Stay still, Quinn!” I close my eyes and let myself off into my head. I almost don’t feel the six cuts, until he licks a tear off my face again. “Ah, Quinn. Your, ha, tears are the _best_.” The Joker climbs off me and starts getting ready for his day.

 

I watch him, holding my arm against my chest. By the time he comes out, I have to pee. “Uh, please, can I go to the bathroom?”

The Joker stares at me before breaking into a grin. “Of course! What a, ha!, way to _treat_ a guest.” He lets me out of the cuffs and pushes me into the bathroom. I hear the lock click behind him. “Now, Quinnie, I’m gonna leave for, eh, a bit. Y’know, cause havoc, KILL a few people. Don’t, hoo!, miss me too much.”

I hear his footsteps, and then the door slams. I’m alone. I look around the small bathroom, but there’s nothing I can use to get out. Just a toilet, sink, his makeup, and a bar of soap in the shower. My cellphone is back at school. I wonder how my mother’s doing, with me gone. She probably doesn’t care. She’s responsible for everything bad that has ever happened to me.   
When my father died, because of her, we had to move to the Narrows, where she let her steady supply of boyfriends abuse me. She might not even notice that I’m gone. I gulp and think of the Joker coming back instead. The very thought of him, and his knives, makes my heart race. But I haven’t slept much, and I feel my eyes close. 

 

Wake up to the Joker kicking the door open. “Quinnie! I’m home! I, ha!, MISSED you!” He sits on the edge of the sink, kicking his legs back and forth. There’s grey dust on his shoes and pant legs. “I did it, you know. I just DID it!” He laughs.   
He pauses, but I don’t say anything. The Joker sighs, using a knife to clean under his fingernails. “I blew up a _building_ for ya. Well, kinda.” He chuckles and leans against the mirror. “I mean, I was gonna, ha!, do it anyway, but I thought of you.”  
I stare at at him, feeling my lower lip quiver. He peers down and groans. “Now, now, _Quinn_ , I told you I wanted SMILES. Why do you look so _sad_ all the time?” When I don’t speak he sighs and sits in front of me. I glare at him. “It’s the scars, isn’t it? I bet they mocked what makes you _beautiful_ ,” he says. I stare.

I’ve always been taught that Joker was a madman, but the man sitting before me appears sympathetic and sane. “Uh...yeah. You....You’re right,” I stammer. He leans a little closer, and I realize Joker’s eyes are green.

“But what else, Quinn? Who stole your smile?” 

“Herman.” 

He tilts his head. “Herman what?” 

“His name was Herman Stuol. He was one of my mom’s boyfriends,” I mumble, feeling a little dazed for some reason. 

“What did he do, eh?” 

I look down. “He, uh, he raped me. And my, my mom didn’t care. She let....her boyfriends beat me up an’ then....I mean, he _raped_ me,” I slur. I’m dizzy, and my sight is blurring. “Wha’ did ya _do_ t’ me?” I ask as the room starts to go dark. The last thing I feel is his hands on my arms.

 

I wake up in another room. Cars and people rumble outside, and the TV is on. My tongue is dry and my head hurts. That son of a bitch drugged me. And, by the looks of it, moved me somewhere else. I moan and grab my head. “Fuck....”

A chuckle grabs my attention. “Quinn. You’re awake.” The Joker is sitting on a couch, that tattered suitcase in his lap. He grins at me. “Look at the TV. I gave you something. Just to see you smile. Recorded the broadcast of it and everything.” I turn my eyes to the screen. The news is on. A blandly pretty reporter is looking seriously at the camera.   
I can’t hear her quite clearly, but I catch ‘breaking news’ ‘murder’ ‘Joker’ and ‘disturbing’. Then the screen flashes to a picture of a man I know. He’s dead, and a wide smile has been slashed across his face.   
The Joker had killed Herman Stuol. In spite of myself, I smile. He catches it, clapping his hands together and laughing. “See! Ah, look at that smile! Ha, beautiful.” The Joker gets up and puts an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll destroy anything that steals your smile, Quinn.”

“You, uh, drugged me,” I mutter.

“Sorry about that, but, uh, y’know that flying _rodent?_ ” I nod. “He was, he was getting TOO _close_. And although I just _love_ a little, ha!, excitement, I can’t have him ruining my _fun_.” The Joker flips the TV off and dusts off his pants. “And you were so....open, too. Maybe you’re starting to like me a bit, eh?” He nudges me. 

“I was _drugged_ ,” I snarl.

“Mhm.” He grins and gets up. “But I killed that nasty man for ya, Quinn. And I gave him, hoo!, a pretty new GRIN! Don’t I, eh, get a bit of, aha, thanks for that? Although your smile was enough.” 

“Thank you,” I mumble. 

“Quinn, you’re so _obedient_. I like that about you.” He tosses me water and a granola bar. “I even brought you dinner.” I only have one hand free from the cuffs, so I have to rip it open with my teeth. I gulp them down, praying they aren’t drugged. I have no idea how he drugged me earlier, and I don’t want it to happen again. “I gotta leave you for a bit longer, but I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll even, hoo!, bring you a present!” I watch him leave before I settle back against the bed side, staring at the wall.

 

I get bored after a while. I try getting out of the handcuffs, but that’s useless. I hum to myself, sing songs, and talk nonsense. There’s no way of telling what time it is. It could be two in the morning or one in the afternoon. After a few hours I’m deathly bored, and have to pee. The Joker hasn’t come back.

 

I end up peeing myself. I can’t hold it anymore, so I sit in a puddle of my own piss, completely ashamed. I start sobbing, and that’s when the Joker comes back. He bursts in the door cackling, trailing the smell of fire behind himself. Smoke billows from the ends of his sleeves. “Quinnie! I have so much to, ha!, tell you! I, I just, I DID so much! Haha, no one even saw, ha!, it _coming!_ ”

I’m frozen and scared, tears still falling down my face. He stops and eyes me. “I’m, I’m so _sorry_ ,” I cry. “I couldn’t, h-hold it. I had to pee.” 

The Joker slaps me, making my head hit the bed. “Quinn. Quinn, now we’re not, uh, animals, are we? I mean, do I look, ha!, like a DOG to ya?” I shake my head. He leans in close. “WOOF!” I jump backwards, hurting my wrist when the handcuff stops me. “I can’t allow this, Quinnie.” 

His face darkens, and I start begging. “P-Please, I’m sorry! Just lock me in the bathroom again, I’m sorry!” He grabs me by the throat and pulls until I’m bent back over the bed. His scent fills my nose. Smoke. I scream and try to struggle against his weight.   
The Joker covers my mouth with a hand and holds the knife up. “Shh, shh, _shh_!” he hisses, holding the blade to his lips. “I won’t, uh, I’m not gonna _hurt_ you, Quinn. Promise. I _promise_ , see?” Joker slips the knife away and holds his empty hands up, falling entirely against my chest.  
I can feel his heart beating, which is strange. I almost thought he wasn’t human enough to have a heart. “It’s okay, it’s good, I, uh, I’ll take care of ya.” He stays there for a little longer, breathing softly in my ear. It’s the closest anyone has been to me in two years. At least, anyone who isn’t hurting me.   
The Joker gets off me and unlocks the hand cuffs. “Clean this up. And, ah, don’t try to escape. Door’s locked!” I try the door anyway. It’s locked.

 

The Joker washes off his makeup and returns, sprawling himself next to me on the bed. He flicks the TV on and sits watching it for a bit. It’s actually normal. He isn’t giggling, I’m not handcuffed, there’s no dead people.  
We could be two friends just hanging out. Eventually he sighs and rolls over on his back, looking at me. “You, uh, do you get bored, Quinnie? When I leave you?” I’m not sure if this is a trick question, so I glance over at him. He watches me calmly, twisting a strand of green hair around one crooked finger.

I clear my throat, but of course my voice is still gravelly. “Uh, yeah. I do.” 

“I could give ya some books or somethin’. Leave the TV on.”

“T-Thanks,” I stutter.

He’s quiet for a moment. “I was bored a lot, as a kid. My, uh, my dad, he was a big dude. Drunk a lot. Didn’t like noise. Whenever I did something to annoy him, he’d hit me, leave me, ah, locked in a closet for a few hours. I’d get so bored I’d, er, I’d start cutting myself on the splinters, just to watch my blood make patterns in the floor.” I stare at him, feeling a little sick. The Joker just grins and stands, clapping his hands together. “But Daddy’s gone now! And, ha!, I’m still around to cause mayhem!” He bends down to my level and holds my eyes.  
“Quinn, I, ah, I think you’ve been good enough that we don’t need _these_ anymore.” He rattles the handcuffs. “How bout I let you sleep on the couch tonight and you don’t try to escape?”

“I won’t try to escape,” I lie, swearing to myself that I’m gonna run as soon as he’s asleep.

The Joker gives me a huge smile and kisses my scars. I’m getting used to that. “Good,” he purrs. 

 

It does feel nice, lying on something soft for the first time in days. The only thing I really want now, besides freedom, is a toothbrush. I’ve been washing my mouth out with the water he gives me. I lie on my back in the dark, forcing myself to stay awake until I hear his breathing settle.  
Then I slip from the bed and creep over to the door, wincing at every creak. It’s locked and I sigh, leaning my head against the wood. I’m too afraid to sob. There’s a soft chuckle in the darkness and I scream, falling backwards to the floor. The Joker is awake. I cann see him in the dark as he gets up and slinks towards me, murmuring my name. “Quinn, Quinn, _Quinnie_. What did I tell you earlier?” He’s kneeling over me, running his fingers across my scars. 

“That, that I shouldn’t try to, to, uh, escape,” I whimper.

“And, eh, what did ya try to do?” he whispers gently.

“E-escape.” The Joker’s hands move to my shoulders, pushing until I’m flat on my back. 

I can feel him lean over, far enough that his lips are to my ear. “You are _MINE_. You will not escape _me_.” His hands go to my face, stretching my lips painfully. “ _Smile_ for me, Quinn. SMILE!” He roars.

I’m sobbing by then, my eyes shut tight against the darkness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I won’t try to escape again, I swear!” 

Suddenly he has his arms around me, mouth in my hair. “Shh, shh, Quinn, it’s alright, you’re, uh, you’re safe. I’ll keep you _safe_.” He rocks me back and forth, humming a broken lullaby. In the dark I can pretend he’s someone else holding me, making me feel loved. I fall asleep on the Joker’s shoulder.

I’m ashamed of myself when I wake up. I scramble from his lap and dust myself off, feeling sick and knowing I’m blushing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you! You, you tricked me! There’s nothing...I don’t like you!” 

I’m lucky he doesn’t hit me, just watches me with calm eyes. “Why’re _you_ so upset?” he asks. 

“I just fell asleep in the arms of a madman!” 

His mood changes so quickly I have no time to prepare when he stands up and leaps for me, using my hair to hold me against him. The Joker holds a knife to my throat, his eyes blazing. 

“I am NOT a madman, girl. Watch what you say.” I nod, feeling the knife slice my skin a little. We stand like that until he relaxes, stepping from me and putting the knife away. My legs can’t support me, so I slide to the floor.

“I...I...” 

“Shut up,” he snaps. I bite my lip and nod. It appears I’ve hit a nerve. He turns the TV on and watches it intently, playing with a knife again. I wonder if he even notices it anymore. Some people habitually bite their nails. The Joker habitually threatens.

 

The news is on again. The reporter goes over the usual disaster that is Gotham, and then the screen flashes to a picture of me. I look grotesque. It’s an old picture, and my scars are still fresh. The reporter talks about how I’m missing, presumed dead, and the Joker’s invasion of my school.   
They ask for information if anyone sees me. They even interview a few of my classmates. Everybody looks tired and scared, probably still in shock from the Joker. “She...uh, she was kinda weird. Nobody knew her much. I think she went with him willingly,” says one kid, a boy who’d been in my Chemistry class.  
“Nobody liked Quinn. She was scary. I think she wanted to go with the J...him,” says another girl. Even my teachers chip in.  
“Yes, Quinn was....an odd girl. She seemed angry. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to join his side,” says my English teacher. Everyone I know seems to be falling over themselves to condemn me, like they always have.  
When I came back to school after the attack, people saw my scars and thought of one thing. Joker. There were rumors started that I was his girlfriend, and he had given me the scars, or that I had become obsessed with him and done it to myself. And now the rumors are being spread throughout Gotham.   
My lower lip starts shaking, and my eyes get hot. The bed moves as the Joker leans over to me. 

“According to, ha!, these folks, you must like me more than I, ha!, thought,” he murmurs. “Is, uh, that why you got so angry at me for holding ya? Afraid they might be, hehe, _right_?” 

“You can’t like someone you’ve only known for a few days, and if they’ve _kidnapped_ you,” I snap.

“It’s been a week, Quinn.”

I turn and stare at him. “ _A week? _”__

__Joker laughs and kisses my scars like I’ve done something special. “You, ha!, you slept for, eh, more than a few days when I, haha, had to move ya.”_ _

__“You mean when you drugged me.”_ _

__He nods cheerfully. “Yep.”_ _

__I lean my head against my knees and groan. “ _Fuck_.”_ _

__He pats my shoulder. “Don’t be so down, Quinn. How bout a smile?” I give him a forced smile. “There’s a good girl. Look, I’ll bring you outside. Give ya some fresh air. Maybe then it’ll be better?” Before I can say anything he has me by the arm and is pulling me out the door._ _

__

__It’s pitch dark outside, and the streets are quiet. “What time is it?” I hiss. He shrugs and keeps going. We stop at a large, blank wall. I assume he’s going to lead me to yet another alleyway. Instead, he jumps up, tugging a ladder down._ _

__The Joker bows mockingly and gestures for me to climb. “After you, Quinn.” Whenever I slow down he pokes my ass with a knife. I reach the top and pull myself onto a roof overlooking the Narrows, wrinkle my nose with distaste. Even from above the Narrows are hideous. Smoke clogs the skies, grime clogs the buildings, and hate clogs everything else.  
The Joker sits beside me. “See something you don’t like, Quinn?” _ _

__“The Narrows are ugly,” I say absentmindedly. He grins at me and stands, taking my wrists. He holds me over the edge, letting my feet dangle. My breath catches in my throat and I can’t scream._ _

__“Look, _Quinn_ , LOOK around you. See the chaos, this beautiful messed up city. Can you tell that nothing works, that this place is filthy and _wrong_ just like us? Its horror makes it _beautiful_ ,” he hisses in my ear, pulling me back onto the roof. And suddenly, I see what he does._ _

__Suddenly, the Narrows is beautiful. My heart is pounding, my hands shake, and blood is screaming through my veins, but it’s beautiful. I’ve never felt alive like this. I grin and turn to the Joker, whose smile matches mine. “I _see_.” He laughs and kisses my scars, holding my head in place. Right then, it’s just me and this madman. And I’m happy._ _


	2. River

Joker leaves me alone for a few days after that, off doing some huge crime. He leaves the TV on, as promised, and gives me a stack of books. They’re all horror, which makes me laugh, because of course Joker would like horror. He does handcuff me again, but the chain is long enough that I can move around the apartment easily.  
I finish the books right before he comes back. “Quinn! I’m, ha!, _back_! You can’t, you can’t even IMAGINE the fun I’ve been, hoo!, having! I....They just stood there and _WATCHED_. And everything, ha, was _burning_. It was such a, haha, _gas_.” He isn’t dressed normally. His hair is dyed brown, and the scars are covered. I decide I like him better without all that stuff. I like the green hair and scars. It shows who he is.  
Joker moves to the kitchen and comes back scrubbed clean, the dye still dripping from his hair. “How’ve you _been_ , Quinn? Did ya get bored?” I shake my head and he grins. “Good. GOOD! Do you, eh, wanna see what I _did?_ It was....boom! It was just BOOM!” He’s twitching next to me, eyes even crazier than usual. I can tell he’s still amped up from whatever crime he’s just done. 

“Uh...sure. What did you do?” 

“This!” Joker flips the TV on and watches intently, tongue darting over his lips every few seconds. It is, of course, the news. A reporter stands in front of a smoldering pile of rubble, doing his best to be heard over the sirens. 

“The Joker has struck again, this time taking down one of Gotham’s most iconic buildings, The Clocktower. He was last seen ten days ago, when he invaded Gotham High and kidnapped this girl...” The news switches to talking about me, then goes back to Joker. “We’re not sure how many casualties there are yet, but it’s estimated that at least ten are dead, and more wounded. Authorities are still going through the rubble, but conditions are dangerous. Citizens are warned to stay away.”

I turn and gape at him. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just trying to make the world a little more....explosive,” he murmurs, still focused on the news. “I got you something, by the way.” 

I look around, but I can’t see anything. “Uh....” 

“It’s in my jacket.” I wait, but he makes no move to get it, so I reach to find it myself. He still smells like smoke. I hadn’t realized how many pockets he had.  
He must’ve made the jacket himself, because there’s just a ridiculous amount of pockets, and more knives than I care to count. 

I nick my fingers a few times, get some weird smelling dust on my hands, but finally find it when my fingers brush something that crackles, and I pull out a plastic case. It holds a toothbrush. I grin. “Thank you!” 

He finally tears his gaze away from the TV and smiles. “Ah, what a grin. I’ve made you happy, Quinn?” I know he only means about the toothbrush, but the question throws me, because he has made me happy. Of course, he’s kidnapped me, hit me, and left scars on my arm, but he’s also said I was lovely, killed the man who raped me, and let me see the Narrows as beautiful.

I feel alive with him, like his maniac personality lights me up. It scares me, because suddenly I don’t want to escape. I don’t say anything to him though. I just nod. “Yeah. I’m happy.” 

He pats my scars. “Good.”

 

Maybe Joker notices I want to stay, because he doesn’t handcuff me before we go to sleep. I get to sleep on the couch, but I still have a nightmare. I’m trapped in a box, and oxygen is running out. I wake up gasping for air, partially because Joker has a hand around my neck. 

“Quinnie,” he growls, “our, ha, old agreement still stands.” I nod and hold my arm out. If he notices my obedience he doesn’t say anything. “I could’ve slept for five more hours,” he hisses as he presses the knife to my skin. Five new cuts join the six already there, but I don’t notice. Instead, I watch the peace wash over his face after each cut. It calms me down too. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh, had a nightmare,” I yawn, already feeling tired again.

“Well, don’t be so loud when you dream,” he whispers, touching my scars. “I’m gonna be away for a while, alright? I’ll, ah, let the handcuffs long again. Leave a few books behind, y’know.”

I nod sleepily, murmuring, “I’ll miss you.” I feel his mouth brush my cheek before I fall asleep.

 

He’s back by the time I wake up. I open my eyes to see him sitting on the end of my bed, casually flipping a knife from palm to palm. He can’t be aware I’m awake, so I watch him for a bit. He’s off in his own head.  
Every few seconds he’ll lick his lips, flick the hair out of his eyes. I wonder what it’s like, being so in and out of control. He claims to be insane, that he just ‘does stuff’, but he comes up with all these clever schemes.  
Maybe I’m the only person who truly sees what he’s like, the man behind the madness. It makes me feel special, and I smile, getting his attention. He catches the knife by the blade and turns to me, ignoring the line of blood now snaking down his palm. 

“Quinn. You’re up.”

I yawn and sit up. “Yeah. How’d it go?” He shrugs, examining his palm. I get the impression he didn’t want to talk about it. I figure the crime has failed. “Uh...so. You’re back early then.” He nods. “I guess...” 

Joker turns with angry eyes, slashing the knife across my face. I yelp and put my hand to my cheek, feeling blood on my fingers. “Quiet. You’re annoying me,” he says, wiping off the blade.  
I nod, then get off the couch and hurry to the bathroom. There’s a thin line across my face, probably too shallow to scar. It stings though. I lean my head against the mirror and start crying. Joker comes up behind me, giggling softly. “ _Quinn_. Quinn. It’s okay. Consider that a mark of _affection_.”  
His words do make me feel better. Every cut, every bruise a mark of affection, a sign that I’m special to him. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Now, _smile_ for me.” I do. He pinches my cheek and grins. “Beautiful. Now c’mon, I wanna see if I’m on the news.”

 

Joker isn’t on the news, which makes him angry again. He throws the remote at the screen, making sparks crackle across the glass. He starts tossing the knife again, apparently not noticing the small cuts that causes.  
I wait as he mutters to himself, cursing the media and Batman. “Ruin my fun, eh? Can’t take a teeny little _joke_. Don’t know how to recognize talent, genius! Well, I’ll show them. I’LL SHOW THEM!” I cower away from him. He looks at me, eyes shining madly. “Quinn! I have an _idea_!”

“Um...” He takes my wrist and pulls me after him. 

“Come on!”  
It’s dark out. I wonder how much time has gone by since I’ve last been outside. I can hardly see, but his walk is steady, so I follow him. We eventually leave the Narrows to a place where the streets are wider, cleaner.  
I want to look around and see as much as possible before Joker makes me go back inside, but he starts running somewhere people can’t see us. We end up crouched near a dumpster. “Uh, what are we doing?” I ask.

He isn’t acting like himself. It isn’t like him to just leave and wander without preparation. Joker ignores me as he fishes around in his pockets. “I just need....ha! Yes....and this’ll do...a bit of, haha, mhm....”he says to himself. He finally produces a lighter and a small can of gasoline. I stand back as he splashes the gas over the wall, forming a dripping smiley face. Then he sets it on fire.  
The heat washes over me in a wave, making my breath catch. It’s beautiful as it burns almost as brightly as his personality. Joker looks over at me and grins while the flames cast shadows on his face, making him appear otherworldly. I smile back. He grabs my hand and we run back to the Narrows.

 

When we get back there are cops up the street. More than usual for the Narrows, where it’s dangerous for cops of all kinds. I feel Joker’s hand tense in mine, but he just strolls to the back of the apartment and breaks in. I can hear, faintly, from outside, “Joker. This is the police. Come out with your hands up.” 

He throws his head back and laughs hysterically. “They...they...ha! They have the wrong building! Stupid...pigs! Yes!” I giggle when I imagine how frustrated the cops will be when they realize they’re shouting at the wrong building. “C’mon, Quinn. We gotta get out of here anyway.”  
We get up to the apartment and he grabs the suitcase, leaving everything else behind. There isn’t much anyway, just toiletries and the books he’s given me. I’m reluctant to leave them behind, but I figure he’ll get me new ones. We leave the building, skirt around the cops, and keep walking. I don’t bother asking where we’re going. I assume he has somewhere to go.

We stop at an apartment that’s slightly nicer than the last one, but that’s not saying much. At least it has a bedroom. Joker leaves his suitcase on the bed and spins around, smiling. “Look at this, Quinnie. We’ve _upgraded_.” I grin and nod. “I gotta get some stuff, but I’ll be back,” he says, leaving quickly.  
He doesn’t bother handcuffing me, and when I check, the door isn’t locked. Freedom is waiting right there for me. I stand there trying to decide with my hand shaking on the door knob. Eventually I sigh and let go of the door so I can sit on the couch. It’s too late now. I can’t leave him. I don’t want to leave him. Joker has changed me so that I’m his, body and soul.  
It scares me even more than Scarecrow, that I’ve come to need him. I’ve never cared that much about anyone to even like them, really, and here’s this guy, this kidnapper, that I’ll do anything for. He enchants me. I’m lost in my thoughts when he comes back. He’s swinging a plastic bag full of necessities. Joker doesn’t mention that I could have escaped, but there’s a slight smirk on his face.  
“Got stuff,” he tells me, dumping out the bag. There’s another horror novel in it. He sprawls himself out on the couch, one leg jittering restlessly. “Gonna watch TV,” he says. I curl up to watch with him.  
____________________  
You see...ha!....I tend to be a bit of a _bad_ guy, so to speak. Sometimes I can be soooo naughty, and that nasty rodent will, er, lock me up for a bit. And, hoo!, someone like me shouldn’t be kept away for long. After all, without me, the people of Gotham would be bored! So I _need_ , I NEED someone to help me get out! I wasn’t, haha, planning to, ah, take Quinnie, bur I saw her scars and they’re so, ha!, _pretty_ that I just couldn’t resist.  
She’s so _loyal_ too, and EASY as, ha!, anything to get on my side. Just a few friendly words and a couple drugs from my, oh, old pal, Scarecrow, and she’d, ha, throw herself off a cliff for me. I’m telling you, people like that are born, not made. Can’t _create_ that kind of, ha, faith.  
Well. Ya _can_ , with the right kind of druggggs, but anyway. I gotta keep her from crime, cause, hm, then she can be all innocent and sidle in to save, ha!, little old _me_. I love, I LOVE coming back to see her smile. I don’t, oh, even want to... _kill_ her when she smiles, because I don’t destroy what’s _mine_.  
And Quinnie is FUN. Sure I can, haha!, bang her up a bit, but I’m not gonna lose another scarred lovely like me. But...BUT, if she wants to go off and have a normal, a BORING life, I, ha, will have to take care of her. Can’t have my _pet_ run away.  
___________________________________________________  
Two days later Joker has visitors. I’m not positive it was two days, because I’ve lost all sense of time, but I have slept once, so it seems like two. He makes me hide in a closet while he meets with the people. “Sorry, Quinnie, but I wouldn’t, ha!, want anyone stealing ya.”  
I think the real reason he hides me is because he wants everyone to think I’m dead so no one will look for him harder than usual. I peek out from the crack where the door meets the frame, and I can hear their voices. Joker’s meeting up with a group of his henchmen. They all wear clown masks, which makes me smile. I’ve always liked clowns.  
I can only see his back, but I knew he’s talking about something important. He keeps leaning forward to speak, gesturing wildly with his gloved hands. “And now, now, boys, I gotta tell you-I’ve got a plan. A _good_ plan, this time.” They nod and come closer. I feel a sneeze build up in my nose. _Shit_. “Y’see, gentlemen, I have a plan, to kill-” I sneeze loudly and he pauses. 

“Uh, boss? What’s that?” 

Joker sighs. “Sorry about this, boys.”

“Wha-” He shoots them all. I close my eyes tight and cower against the back of the closet, trying not to hear their gasping breaths. He’s muttering to himself as he moves around, checking to be sure they’re dead. 

“Quinn. Quinn. I’m disappointed with you,” he says finally, walking closer to the closet. I’m so scared I can only gulp for air. Joker throws open the door and looks down at me, grinning madly. He reaches out and holds me up by the collar. “Those were some damn useful men, Quinn, and I had to kill them!” he roars, throwing me to the back of the closet.  
My head hits a shelf and I see black for a second. By then he’s standing over me with a knife, almost spitting with rage. “C’mere, Quinn, and I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget!” He takes me by the air and drags me from the closet. I kick and scream, but it’s useless. He pushes me to my stomach and sits on my legs, pulling my shirt up past my shoulders. I freeze.  
Joker strokes a hand down my back, purring, “Ah, look at all this _smooth_ skin. I’m gonna fix that.” When I start whimpering he bends over and pats my head. I can feel his jacket brushing my bare skin. “Don’t worry, Quinnie. I’m not gonna fuck you. Just... _relax_.” He trails the blade down my spine and chuckles. “Let me see....how about...here.”

I screech as he cuts my skin open, just above my left hip. It burns like hell, the pain only building as he continues. “ _Please_...please! I’m sorry, please! St-stop!” I howl, begging through my tears. 

“Nope...nope! Almost done,” he tells me. He finally climbs off my legs and crouches near me, watching as I dissolve into sobs. 

“I... _hate_...you,” I rasp out. He laughs and strokes my cheek where he cut me. “No, you don’t.” And the sad thing is, he’s right.

 

I fall asleep eventually, and wake up alone. I’m still on my stomach. When I get up I can feel dried blood crumble off my skin, reminding me of what he’d done. I go to the bathroom mirror and manage to see it after some maneuvering. He’s sliced _SHUSH_ into my hip. The cuts are puffy and raised off my flesh. They sting when I touch them. Joker comes in then. “Quinnie! I have, hooboy!, news for you.” He leans against the bathroom door and snickers at me.  
I’m perched on the sink with my shirt lifted up, twisted around to see my hip. I can understand his amusement. “Enjoying your new marks, Quinn? Want some more?” 

I shrug and turn to him. I kind of like having his marks on me. It’s nice to belong to someone. “You have news for me?”

Joker brightens and walks farther into the bathroom. “There’s a reward out for you! You’re worth, uh, about 100,000 bucks! I, haha, should turn you in myself.” I flinch. I don’t want to leave him. He grins and sits on the edge of the tub. “I, ha!, I think that there’s a danger here. I don’t, hoo!, want to lose my _scarred_ beauty and, haha, now that so much money is being offered for your pretty little _life_ , people might try to take you from me.”  
He chuckles and puts a hand on my knee. “Quinn, would you be willin’ to get a tattoo?” I wonder what that has to do with people taking me from him, but I nod. Joker sprays something at me and I pass out.  
I wake up to a rocking motion. He’s carrying me down a hallway. I shift, murmuring, “Joker?”

The back of my neck feels strange, kind of tingly. “Quinn. You’re up sooner than I thought you would be.” 

“Mhm. My neck feels weird.”

“I tattooed you there.” 

My hand goes to my neck, where I feel stickiness and a bump under my fingers. “What’s that bump?” 

He chuckles softly. “I said I wasn’t gonna lose you. There’s a tracking device under your skin.” 

That comforts me. Now he can find me no matter what happened. “Oh. Mkay. What does it say?” 

“Joker. It says Joker.”

“I belong to you, then,” I say. 

He cackles, making me jump. “People like you are born, Quinnie.” I’m a little confused by that, but I don’t say anything. We reach the apartment and he sets me down. I still feel dizzy, but I’m okay. He sits on the couch near me and sharpens his knives. He keeps testing them out on my skin. I don’t mind. Every time I start bleeding he smiles.  
When he’s done he throws his legs over mine and kisses my scars. “I dunno what happened to make you so... _faithful_ , ha!, but I like it,” he laughs. Then his face gets serious. “I got, ah, a big thing coming up, Quinn. Gonna get together some _friends_ for it and everything,” he grins. “Some friends who know _secrets_ , like how to play with people’s _heads_. Not like me, either. These friends are... _scientists_.”

I swallow nervously. “Scientists? You mean...S-Scarecrow?”

He nods happily. “Ivy, too.”

But I’m not scared of Poison Ivy. “You’re...you’re bringing Scarecrow here?” 

“Yep.”

“W-When?” 

“A few, uh, hours.” Joker checks his watch. “Mhm. It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Uh...uh...” I’m freaking out, blood pounding, but I don’t want to show it. He moves next to me and puts a hand around my neck, palm resting against my tattoo. His skin is very warm. 

“Why so serious, Quinn? Give me a _smile_.” I manage a shaky grin. “Now, don’t be so afraid of silly old _Scarecrow_. He, ha, he won’t touch what’s mine, cause if he does, he’ll, hoo boy!, he’ll learn what _fear_ really is!”  
I nod as he wraps my hair around his hand and tugs until I look up at him. Joker pulls a knife across my forehead, only just deep enough to cut. He licks away the blood and I giggle, forgetting my fear for a moment. He stands up, pulling me with him, then spins me around and takes my face in his hands. “There we go. _Smile!_ ”

 

She comes in on a breath of warm, sultry air. Waves of red hair bounce with every step, get caught in the vines that barely cover her breasts. I can’t believe a woman can be so tall. She has curves I can only dream of, and eyes the color of new leaves. She winks at me and smiles, pursing her full red lips. “Hi there, Smiley.” 

“Smiley?” Joker steps into the room and watches us.

Poison Ivy turns to him, narrowing her eyes. She puts a hand to my cheek and keeps it there. The tips of her fingers are green. “Smiley. It suits her face,” she purrs. A vine snakes down her arm to wrap around my throat, tendrils brushing against my skin.  
Joker just huffs and slumps into a chair, his eyes never leaving her. I can tell they don’t like each other. “Where’s Scarecrow?” she asks as she sits next to him. The vine slides from my neck. “He’s a lot more fun to be around than you, Joker. For a clown, you’re not very funny.” 

A knife is instantly in his hands. “Careful, Ivy. I’m fully capable of pruning you.” She glares at him and goes silent until Scarecrow walks in.  
He takes me by surprise. I’m expecting the man I remember from TV-with the hood on, needles dripping from his fingers and strapped across his chest. Instead, he’s a guy only a few years older than me, wearing glasses and a slightly rumpled suit. His hair is messed up, like he’s just gotten out of bed. The only noticeable oddity is the way his eyes dart back and forth. 

Poison Ivy sighs. “You know, it’s more fun when we’re all in costume.” 

“I have a choice to conceal my other side, unlike you two,” he snaps, straightening his jacket. His eyes flick to me. “Besides, Smiley over there isn’t dressed up.” 

Joker groans when Poison Ivy laughs triumphantly. “See? Smiley is perfect for her.” Scarecrow walks over and sits across from Joker, so I can only see his back. Poison Ivy yawns and stretches, pushing her boobs out. The back of Scarecrow’s neck turns red, which makes me feel better. He’s human. “Alright, Joker. What’s the plan?” she asks bluntly.

“Is it Batman again?” Scarecrow says.

“No...haha...nope. Not Batsy, not this time.” Joker spreads his hands wide. “This is our city, right?” 

They shrug. “Well, I mostly just like the Gardens,” Poison Ivy says, “and I figure Scarecrow’s into Arkham.” 

Joker frowns. “Fine. Fine. Big, ah, parts of this city are ours.”

“Yeah,” they agree. 

“What if I told you someone is trying to take them away from us?”

“Well, of course. The Bat Pack.” 

“No. Not the Bats. A “hero” though. A new one. A new player in our little games,” he hisses.

Neither of them speak, but Poison Ivy’s plants rustle, showing her discomfort. “Who?” 

“Lycan. New guy, or girl, can’t tell. Tricky little bastard, good at, ha!, hiding. Thinks the city can be cleansed,” he tells them. They both stiffen. “Lots of people getting _hopeful_ , feeling _safe_ , feeling _brave_. He got Calender Man last week, Music Maestro the week before. The guy likes to leave a mark, too. Removes the canines. And, haha, he or she’s been saying that we’re nothing, a couple of pathetic _thugs_. Says we’re next. Now, uh, don’t you feel _threatened?_ ” he asks.

Poison Ivy nods, her plants swaying angrily, twining around her hair and body, onto the chair she sits on. Scarecrow suddenly has needles out, the tips glinting dangerously whenever he moves. I wonder where he got them, then realize he must be like Joker. They’re probably concealed all around him. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all,” Poison Ivy hisses, and the men nod. 

“Lycan needs to die. We deserve respect. The Bat Pack has always given respect, but this Lycan thinks to mock us? We can teach him what it takes to live in Gotham,” Scarecrow says flatly, running his fingers along the needles. Joker just tips his head back and laughs hysterically until they finally leave. 

Scarecrow doesn’t say anything to me, but Poison Ivy bends over and strokes her nails along my scars. “We’ll visit in a few weeks, Smiley. See you then.” She sashays out of the room and I notice she’s barefoot. Plants grow wherever her feet touch. I’m left alone with Joker, watching him gasp for air as he loses control of his laughter. 

 

It takes Joker ten minutes to stop laughing. When he dos he just sits there, grinning loosely at me. “She doesn’t really want you, Quinn,” he says finally. 

I glance up at his face, which is fairly calm. “Huh?”

“Ivy. She may give you, ha!, pet names, and be all nice and _touchy_ , but you’re not special to her.” He gets out of the chair and kneels in front of me. “She, haha, she just wants to have another _slave_ , Quinnie. And, and, she wants to steal ya from me. Cause Mother Nature is a jealous _bitch_ ,” he hisses, stroking my scars. “You’re only special to me, alright? Only, ha!, you only matter to me!” 

I nod obediently and he grins, flashing his molars. “Is Lycan a real person?” I ask. I’ve been wondering. It would be just like him to play a prank on his friends. 

“Yes. Lycan is real.” He smiles madly and grips my face in one hand, squeezing until my bones creak. “And I will kill that little bitch, Quinn. Mark my words.” I nod and he lets me go. “I’m gonna be away for a little bit. Few days, a week, I dunno. Anyway, I left stuff for ya. Books. TV. Don’t miss me too much. And, ha!, don’t leave,” he tells me.

“Okay.” Joker kisses my scars and leaves.


	3. Simon

He doesn’t come back for a week. I start watching TV obsessively, searching for any sign that he’s out there. I’m sure that news of his capture or death will be broadcast all over, but there’s nothing. I barely sleep, cause when I do I have nightmares. The thought of him being gone forever makes me feel hollow.

 

I’m on the couch when he comes through the door, stumbles over to the couch, and collapses on top of me. His breathing is harsh and he’s shaking. Something warm and wet drips onto my palm. “Joker?” He just lays there with his head pressed into my collarbone, green hair tickling my skin. “Joker!” I roll him off me, wincing when he hits the floor and yelps.  
There’s blood everywhere-on my hands, my clothes, all over him. I can finally see where it’s coming from. There are three large cuts across his chest. Whatever did it has cut his clothes to shreds with just a swing. Blood bubbles up from his skin as I bend over him, hands waving helplessly. “Oh shit, _fuck_ , what do I do?” I whimper. 

His eyes slit open and he smiles at me, forcing himself up to his elbows. “Hey, Quinnie. How’s it going?” 

“You’re bleeding!” He sits up further and tugs his shirt off, exposing his skinny white chest. Scars and bruises dot every inch of skin. I focus on the three large gashes that split from shoulder to his lowest rib. 

“Get me the suitcase, Quinn,” he orders. I hurry to it. Joker cracks the suitcase open and pulls out a needle and thread. He doesn’t allow me to see what else is inside. “Ever learn how to sew?” he asks me. 

“N-No.” 

He glances over at me and rolls his eyes. “Calm down. S’not like I haven’t been hurt before.” He smiles and touches the scars around his mouth. “I’ll teach you how to sew later,” he promises, threading the needle. I watch as he pushes it through his skin, in and out until all the cuts are closed.   
Then he leans his head back against the couch. Sweat beads his forehead, making the makeup drip. We’re quiet until his breathing softens and he stops shaking. The room smells like blood, which makes me feel sick. “Miss me, Quinn?” he says. His voice is low and raspy.

“I watched the news for you every day,” I say, trying to ignore the blood drying on my hands. 

“Was I on it?”

“No.” 

“Too bad.” Joker shifts until he’s pressed against me, probably for my body heat. “Wanna, ha, know what happened?”

“Yeah.”

“I met up with Lycan. Got a, ha, got in a little fight.” He spits blood onto the floor and rubs his mouth. “And I got a pretty new set of scars for it. The beastie has nasty claws.”

“What happened to Lycan?” Joker shrugs. He’s still bare-chested, so I can feel the bumps of his scarred skin. 

“Got away. I’ll kill him eventually. Somehow.” He falls asleep in front of me for the first time, head on my shoulder. I feel intensely fond of him right then, as I fall asleep myself.

 

My head is in Joker’s lap when I wake up. He’s snoring with his head tilted back. One of his hands rest on my cheek, fingers twitching against my skin. I smile and roll over, only to feel him jump on me with a knife to my throat. 

“Who are-Oh. Mornin’, Quinn,” he says slowly, getting off me. 

“Uh, morning.” Joker’s definitely better than the night before. His breathing isn’t as harsh and he moves easily. He yawns and stretches, then bends over to examine his ripped clothes. “Damnit,” he grimaces, holding them gingerly in front of him. “That was a nice coat.”   
I watch him, biting my nails. My stomach growls. Joker pauses and turns his head towards me. “Hungry?”

“Uh...yeah. The food ran out yesterday.” 

He tsks and takes my chin in one hand. “Quinn, _Quinn_! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re my pal, I CAN’T let you go hungry.” I nod. He watches my face for a moment before he tugs me into the bathroom, pushing my shoulders until I sit on the sink. “I’ll be....I’ll be right back! Brush your teeth,” he orders.  
He’s back before I’m done. I spit and look at him patiently. “Alright, alright, sit on the sink. I wanna, we’re, ha. Going out. We need a disguise. Now....SIT.” Joker rummages around under the sink until he comes up with a few makeup kits. He starts rubbing foundation on my face with practiced hands, fingers lingering on my scars.  
It feels nice, especially when he strokes my cheek and smiles. “Close your eyes.” He puts a lot of makeup on my eyes. I can feel his breath across my skin. Like always, Joker smells of smoke. He moves to the side and I feel his hands in my hair, tugging out the tangles.   
I wince and move away from him, but he pulls me back. “Stay still.” After a while it doesn’t hurt as bad, and I relax into his touch. Air brushes my neck as he ties my hair up, then steps back. “Done.” The mirror shows my face, but different.   
He’s caked on makeup around my mouth, slightly disguising the scars, and blue eye shadow is garish across my eyelids. With the way my hair is up, I look like the hookers that used to hang around near my bus stop.

“Uh...”

“There’re clothes on the couch. Wear them.” I’ve been wearing the same clothes since he kidnapped me, so I’m grateful for new ones. It’s a cheap, trashy dress though. I put it on and feel naked. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been willing to expose skin. I begin to wonder what he’s planning.

“Joker?” He pops his head out of the bathroom. He’s wearing cover up, so most of the scars are hidden. I don’t like it. Doesn’t look right. “What’s going on?” I ask. 

He cackles. “You’ll see. You’ll _see_.” I sigh and sit on the couch. When Joker finally leaves the bathroom I gape at him and start laughing. He’s dressed in an ugly suit and a large hat. He grips a cane with a grinning skull head.  
“I do so love to see you smile,” he says as he takes my hand. “Wanna know where we’re going now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ivy and Scarecrow wanna meet up. We’re going to Ivy’s place this time. But, the coppers and that....Bat are out looking for me. So....we’re in disguise.” I finally realize what he’s getting at. In order not to get caught, we’re going in disguise as a pimp and his girl. I giggle. “Good girl,” Joker says, kissing my scars before he leads me from the room.  
The whole night is almost like a game. We stay out for hours, Joker’s hand warm around my waist as we pretend to stumble down side alleys and sewers. I keep my face buried in his coat like I’m too drunk to focus.  
I can hear his hushed laughter in my ear. We grab breakfast, lark around a bit, get lunch, vandalize a few apartments, run from the cops, get dinner, and head to Ivy’s. It’s a boring, squat building at the edge of the city. Graffiti decorates the outside, but I notice the paint is green, and even the weeds look healthy. Joker glances around before we step inside.  
The smell of plants and dirt is nearly overwhelming. Greenery is everywhere-around chairs, on the sink, across the windows. I’m not sure, but I think they move to watch us. I look down, careful not to step on any plants  
. Poison Ivy is further in, lounging on a throne made of vines. Scarecrow is there, too. He kneels at her feet looking grumpy and tired. There’s straw peeking out from under his collar. I stare, fascinated and scared by the thought that his alter ego lies just beneath the surface struggling to get out. Poison Ivy looks at us. “Joker.” Joker nods at her as he pulls off the costume and tosses it aside, revealing his trademark purple suit.   
He wipes the makeup off quickly, leaving smears behind that make him look like a child who’s found his mother’s lipstick. “Let’s begin,” she says.

“I’ve got a bit of information on Lycan,” Scarecrow murmurs, scratching at his neck. His eyes glow in the darkness of Ivy’s house. “Lycan has no connection to the Bat Pack. I saw Batman himself hold Lycan over the edge of a building and threaten broken bones if the attacks continue. Clearly he doesn’t want anyone else in his group.”

Joker snorts. “We all saw how long that kept up with Batgirl....” He sniggers nastily. “....and then I broke her spine.” They all nod. Poison Ivy watches me with interest. I’m beginning to wonder if Joker was telling the truth about her wanting me as a slave.   
Maybe she’s just lonely, being the only girl. Then her eyes flash to Joker and narrow cruelly, making me rethink that idea. “I met Lycan yesterday,” Joker says, leaning back on his hands. I sit behind him, where I can hear the plants moving. It makes me nervous. “Obviously, I got away, but the thing has claws, and it’s fast. I don’t think I killed it, but I got a few good jabs in. So, now we’re looking for a _wounded_ beastie,” he says, smirking.

“Good, good news,” Poison Ivy murmurs, tracing the veins of a giant palm leaf. “The plants have been telling me Lycan doesn’t live in the gardens. Probably smart enough not to go on my territory.”

“We’ll find it in the City, then,” Scarecrow mutters. 

“Or the Narrows,” Joker puts in.

“Important people don’t live in the Narrows,” Scarecrow sneers. He pauses and pales when he sees the angry twist of Joker’s mouth. “Uh, I mean...”

Joker cracks up and pats his back, almost sending Scarecrow to the ground. “Don’t, aha!, worry, old pal. The, ha!, Narrows has its _perks_!” That seems to end their meeting, because Scarecrow sighs, gets up, and leaves. Straw is coming from his pant legs as well. Joker looks to Poison Ivy, who nods.  
He turns to me, waving crooked fingers. “Quinn. Go where you can’t hear us. We have things to talk about.” I nod. I don’t want to talk, because I don’t want her hearing my weird, gravelly voice. I walk into another room and wait until they start talking again before I creep back. I hide behind a doorway and listen. 

“You planning on keeping her?” Poison Ivy’s voice is soft now, not as blatantly seductive. 

“Yeah. Comes in useful. I like to have her around. Gives me something to look at,” Joker says, and I realize they’re talking about me. 

“You gonna train her into another one of you?”

“Nah. I don’t think she has it in her to be a killer. I need her for other stuff,” he says. Then he coughs and grumbles, “All this means you’re not taking her from me.” 

Poison Ivy laughs. “You noticed?”

“You always want other people’s stuff.” 

“True. I thought she might be into chicks, cause she doesn’t feel like you. Why haven’t you fucked her yet?” He mumbles something and their voices get softer, than rise again. “You realize she’s going to get a lot of attention from the others, too. Anything involving you is always big news.” 

“I know.” They stop talking after that, so I rush to the other room and try to look innocent. Joker comes in with a mad look in his eyes and grabs me by the throat. “Little eavesdroppers deserve punishment, Quinn,” he growls, taking out his knife. “Don’t think I couldn’t sense you were listening.”

He traces the blade along my throat and to my lower lip, pressing deep enough that I yelp. “Please! I’m...I’m sorry! I was curious!”

He keeps pressing down until I’m screaming, cries slightly muffled by the blade against my tongue. “Joker! Enough. She’s disturbing the plants,” Poison Ivy snaps, stepping into the room.   
Her vines are rustling angrily around her arms. Joker looks over his shoulder at her and sneers, but he drops me. I look up at him as he puts the disguise back on. I can feel blood dripping off my chin. Poison Ivy walks up to me and kisses my forehead gently.  
I feel better immediately. I touch my mouth and realize it’s healed. She smiles and pats my head before leaving the room. I knew she can’t hear me, but I lean over and whisper, “Thank you,” into a plant. Her laughter bubbles from another room. 

 

The way back home passes easily. Joker’s hand is tight on my hip. He practically carries me the last few blocks. When we get inside the apartment he slams the door and tosses me away from him. His face is furious and I whimper.   
He grabs my dress by the front and lifts me up. I hear fabric rip. “Don’t you EVER turn to Ivy for help again! Cause if you, ha!, do, I’ll _cut_ you ear to ear again!” I nod, feeling tears on my face.  
He crouches in front of me and wraps a hand around my neck, smiling in a way I might actually call soft. “Quinn,” he croons. “Don’t cry. A face like that should never know tears. Give me a smile.” I smile weakly and he grins, kissing my scars.   
After that Joker turns on the TV and sits next to me, folding his legs across my lap. “I, ah, would take you out, Quinnie, but there are cops on my tail,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrug.   
“You’re not very talkative, eh, Quinn?” I shrug again and he frowns, pulling out a knife to poke my ribs. “Speak!”

“Uh, no. I’m not.”

“I only hear your voice when you’re begging,” he muses. 

“I don’t like my voice. It got damaged in the attack,” I admit.

“I like it.”

“T-Thanks.” 

“Proper villain voice, that is.” I can’t help laughing, and it builds until we’re rolling on the couch together, his raspy howls making his chest vibrate against my ear. We fall asleep like that, pressed together on the couch with his arm around me.

 

I wake up to him running his knife along my jaw, humming a cheery tune. “Good morning, Quinnie! Did ya, did ya sleep well?” I nod carefully. Joker’s eyes are too bright and his mouth twitches. He’s in one of his insane moods. “Get up! Come on, the night is young! There’s stuff to do, things to _destroy_!”  
He pulls me up roughly by my shoulder, giggling. I’m still wearing the hooker dress from the night before, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He lopes out of the apartment with me running after him. We eventually meet up with a group of his thugs.  
Joker makes me hide while he talks to them. I’m careful not to sneeze. I can’t hear a word they’re saying, but Joker makes exploding motions with his hands and produces a map that seems to impress them. Finally the thugs nod and run off into the darkness. He turns to me and grins. “QUINNIE! Guess what!” 

“What?”

“I brought you here to see your first _jailbreak_.” He takes my wrist and pulls me after him, not stopping even when I stumble over rocks I can’t see. It’s dark down here, and damp. I assume we’re in some kind of sewer. “Hurry up, Quinn! You’ll miss the big event!” He yells, running faster.  
We finally reach his destination, a wall his men are gathered around. “Stay in the shadows,” he orders before he walks over. I watch intently as they set up dynamite and step back, lighting the fire. After a few seconds there’s a giant boom and I shriek, covering my ears.   
I half expect the whole cave to fall apart, but the wall isn’t even dented. Joker frowns and steps closer, trailing his fingers along the stone. He grimaces. “Damnit. Batman’s been here. This wall’s been reinforced with diamond. We could go at it for a million years without a change. Looks like Clayface has to find another way out of Arkham.” His back is hunched and he shakes, twisting his hands together.

His men look at each other with fear and back away from his anger. “Uh, boss? We’re gonna go,” they say as they run off, leaving me alone with his madness. He throws his head back and laughs, laughs until he falls to his knees. There’s an ominous silence, so quiet I can hear water dripping from above. I carefully make my way over to him.

“Uh....” He stands, towering over me. I swallow nervously. 

“It...didn’t... _work_ ,” he growls, grabbing my hair and pushing his face close. “I need Clayface for my, ha!, my plans, but that goddamned _rodent_ always stops me!” He pushes me away and spreads his arms wide. “I _WILL_ , ha!, TAKE OVER THIS CITY! I WILL I WILL I WILL!” he chants, prancing around me.   
I watch him, feeling fear pound through my body. I know Joker can kill me in an instant, if he wants to. And in a mood like this, he might do it. Joker grabs me by the throat and licks my cheek, cackling. “Quinnie, I will destroy _everything_. Gotham will be in ruins beneath my feet, and everyone will be DEAD!” He pauses and grins loosely at me. “Even YOU!” 

I back away from him, holding my hands up. “You....you’re insane!” I shout angrily. 

His face turns enraged in an instant and he grabs me, stalking away from the cave. “INSANE? I’m not INSANE! I just like to have a little _fun_. Don’t....DON’T CALL ME INSANE! I’m, ha!, I’m just as _normal_ as the rest of you people! I’m not insane, Quinnie!” 

“I’m, I’m sorry,” I stutter.

“It’s too late. You need to be taught a _lesson_ ,” he hisses. I close my eyes and prepare for his knife on my skin, but there’s nothing. I crack an eye open and look around. I’m standing alone in a tunnel. Joker has left me behind. I think I can hear his mocking laughter far off. 

“Joker?” I call. My voice sounds tiny even to me. There’s no answer, and I bite my lip, looking around. Dark tunnels stretch in every direction. I’m lost. I thought I was scared before. This is worse. Thick, sickly fear crawls up my throat, makes my stomach drop and my head spin. Every shadow seems to hold a monster, every drop of water is someone coming to kill me.   
I run blindly about, calling for the Joker, but the only answers are my echoing screams. I run until my legs gave out and I trip, landing face down in a dank puddle. I curl up against a wall and try to breathe, to stop myself from descending into panic again. Closing my eyes seems to help, although the sounds are amplified.  
I jump and open my eyes whenever I think I hear something, but it’s always nothing. That’s why it’s kind of weird I don’t even notice when something actually does come along. I’m getting kind of sleepy, but instinct finally makes me open my eyes. I’m face to snout with some kind of sewer monster.  
It blinks glowing yellow eyes at me and snorts hot breath across my face. I go still. The thing sniffs along my neck and clothes, then sits back and watches me. It’s too dark for me to see, but I sense the thing is huge. I think it’s an animal, so I’m shocked when it speaks. 

“Girl,” he rumbles. It has a male voice. “You smell...familiar. Funny.” I nod, trying to look strong and uneatable, but my lower lip is trembling. “Who brought you down here?” 

“Th-The Joker,” I whisper. 

“That explains the smell. Why would he leave you down here?” The thing pauses. “Maybe he wants me to eat you.” I start sobbing, so scared I can’t breathe. “Luckily for you, I’m not hungry. Maybe we’ll meet again. Until then, girl.” 

The thing pads away, leaving behind a dry, animal smell and the scent of damp. I curl further into my knees and pray he won’t come back hungry. The darkness of the sewer starts to get to me, and I begin to feel sleepy. I keep shaking myself awake, not wanting to be totally defenseless. I stand and started walking, hopefully in the opposite direction from that thing. It’s like being in a nightmare as time passes on.   
The fear only builds, I’m dizzy and starving. I can see nothing but flowing, twisted shadows. I jump at every noise, and I’m so cold the edges of my body are numb. The hooker dress is wet and ripped, so I take it off and wrap it around my shoulders. My legs burn and I twisted my ankle about an hour ago.   
Tears and snot mix and drip down my face, but I’m too far gone to care. I throw up a few times, probably because I hit my head on a wall I thought was a tunnel, because my eyes can’t get used to the dark. It’s like being under the Scarecrow’s fear toxin again, only this time I’m alone. I yell for Joker again and again, searching for any sign of rescue.

I’m crying for my dad when he finds me. “ _Quinn_. Shh, shh, it’s, ha, it’s _okay_. I’m back, Quinn. You’re safe.” Joker has found me. His hands are on my shoulders, thumb covering the tattoo on my neck. “It’s only been two days, Quinn. Not so bad.” 

I pull away from him and rub my eyes with the filthy dress. “That....that _is_ bad. You left me alone down here in the dark, like an _animal_ ,” I rasp.

“Aw, come on, Quinn. I found you, didn’t I?” He takes off his jacket and wraps it around me. I can hear knives clanking in the pockets. I’m still not ready to forgive him.

“I thought you were never coming back. I thought I would die down here. You left me alone in a sewer! You’re a cruel, senseless man!” 

Joker pulls me close and holds me, humming his weird lullabies. I haven’t slept for two days, so my eyes start to close. “C’mon, Quinn. We’re all good now, eh? I, haha, I’ll always come back for you.” 

I nod and curl further into his shoulder. “Mhm...we’re good.” He laughs and stands, still holding me. I fall asleep to his rocking walk.

 

I wake up on a cot. My head aches and I’m hungry, but I don’t mind. The Joker sits at a table a few feet away, staring off into space. The suitcase is on the floor beside him. I glance around and realize we’ve moved again. The place is small and dark, with just a light bulb dangling from the ceiling.   
As I watch something rumbles by and it sways back and forth, flicking shadows around the room. There don’t appear to be any doors, which worries me. “Quinn,” Joker mutters, looks over at me. 

“Hi. Where are we?” I say, struggling off the bed. It’s a pointless exercise. My ankle gives out and I fall over. 

He giggles and stands up. “New place. The, ha, Guano Man was getting nosy again. He, ah, wasn’t happy about a few tricks I played.” 

I nod, still trying to stand. He just watches me and laughs. “How long was I out?” 

“Just a few hours. You’re resilient, Quinn. Comes in, haha, useful, eh?”

“Yeah. Did you get Clayface out?” He frowns and throws a knife at me. It hits the mattress right beside my head with a thud. I close my eyes and try not to scream.

“No. I didn’t. Shut up.” I lean back against the bed and sigh, accepting that I won’t be able to stand without help. He’s quiet for a bit, his only noise the crunch of food. My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten in days. 

“Uh, Joker? I’m hungry.” 

He looks at me with cruel, mocking eyes. “Then get up and get something. There’s food over there.” He gestures at the farthest corner of the room, eyes never leaving mine. I force myself to crawl there, wincing at the rough boards against my knees.   
He’s taken the jacket back, so I’m only in my underclothes. I wonder if he even noticed that part. Probably not. I’m a foot away from the food when I put a hand out and feel empty air. It’s too late for me to stop. I fall forward onto a ladder and tumble to the ground below. I land so hard the boards bend and creak under my weight.  
When I make my eyes open I see the Joker looking down at me with a huge grin on his face. “Oops! Guess I forgot to tell you that, ha!, we’re living in an attic.” I groan and roll over on my stomach, feeling new pains all over. “Quinnie?” He climbs down the ladder and kneels next to me, poking my ribs. I decide I’m too hurt to respond. “Quinn. Get up,” he says impatiently, turning me over. 

I put an arm over my eyes and huff, “That hurt.” He laughs, leaning down to kiss my scars.

“You’ll be fine. I knew it wouldn’t actually kill you.” He helps me up, throwing my arm over his shoulders. “C’mon, Quinn. I’ll give you some food.”   
I smile, pleased he’s in a good mood again. It’s not like I was hurt that bad. We eat at the table with the TV on. When he’s done he leans over and nudged me. “They sent out another search party for ya while you were out. Seems like someone’s been making a big fuss about ya still being gone.”

I look up, feeling interest grow. “Who?” 

“Your, ha, mommy.” 

I swallow hard and push the food away. “What? Why?” It isn’t like her to care. 

“I dunno. I recorded it for you. Maybe you can, ah, explain it?” He flips the TV on and sits back, smiling. My mother is on the news, wearing her familiar ratty coat. She looks low down and used up, as always. 

“I miss my daughter, my little Quinn. It’s been two months since he took her, and I want her _back_. We were always so close. She’s my precious daughter,” she whines into the mike, smiling smugly down at all the cameras. So that’s it. She wants the news, she uses me to be famous.   
I hiss and pick up a spoon, ready to hurl it at her lying, attention whore face. Joker beats me to it. He flicks a knife at the screen, leaving a crack right where her head is. The screen flickers and goes black. 

“Y’know, Quinn, I could kill her, if you want. It would, haha, be pretty easy,” he says casually, getting up and taking his knife back. I stare at him in horror. 

“Uh, no. _No_. You can’t kill my mother.”

“Why not? I killed that other guy for you. I kill people all the time.” 

“But she’s my _mother_ ,” I explain.

He shrugs. “Never really saw the importance of mothers. I didn’t have one.” 

“That’s not possible,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Well, I had one, but Daddy killed her when I was young,” he tells me. I forget about my mother and focus on him. 

“That’s...sad,” I whisper.

“I don’t remember it,” he says cheerfully, tossing the knife from hand to hand. I feel sad and a little proud, proud that Joker would trust me enough to say something like that. He makes me feel special. His face sharpens, like he’s coming back from memories. “You’re not wearing anything, Quinn.” I cross my arms over my chest and look away. “Huh. You really do have, eh, scars all over.”

“The mobsters tortured me, too. Can I have some clothes?” I snap. He narrows his eyes at me, but I’m lucky this time. He hands me pants and a button up shirt. They smell like him. They’re too big, but I don’t mind. It’s better than the hooker dress or my underwear.

When I change he puts me back on the cot. “Stay there. You’re useless until you can walk,” he orders. “Ivy and Scarecrow want to meet up again. There’s books and food nearby. I should be back soon.” I wave goodbye as he descends the ladder.

 

He came back two days later. I’m healed by then, which pleases him. When I walk over to him he grins and spins me around, kissing my scars. “Good girl, Quinn!” 

I laugh and hug him until he puts me down. “How’d it go?” I ask carefully, checking his expression. He smiles, though. “GOOD! We, ha!, we got Clayface out, and, uh, Lycan won’t be free for long!” He leans close to me. “Y’see, Bat’s not happy with that dog either. I heard, hoo!, that Lycan went a little too far with a criminal, ended up cutting his _throat_. And if there’s one thing Bats can’t stand, it’s _killing_. So, haha!, Lycan’s days are numbered. I only hope I get to him before Bats does.” 

“What do you need Clayface for?” He snickers and pinches my cheek. 

“You’ll see, Quinn!” I have to be satisfied with that answer. 

 

Joker decides to take me out that night. I’m happy to go along, knowing that with him, everything will be interesting. He takes me deeper into the Narrows than I would have ever dared to go, cackling the whole time.  
We skirt people and busy streets, run through alleys until he finally stops in front of me. I bump into him and am reminded of the day he kidnapped me. It’s turned into a good memory. This time he just slaps the back of my head. “Quinn! Don’t be so clumsy!”

“Where are we going?” 

“We’ll be there soon.” We walk a bit farther, to a dilapidated old building overlooking a canal. He lifts me onto the roof with one easy movement, then jumps up beside me. It is silent but for the rush of water. I lay back with my head on my arms and watch the sky. Joker throws an apple at me and bites into his own before he sits. “Look familiar, Quinn?”

“Uh, no.”

“Guess you wouldn’t. This is the first place I brought you to.”

I look down at the filthy water and shudder. “Ew.”

He jumps on top of me, sneering, “What? Not good enough for ya, Quinn?” 

I gulp. “No. No. It’s okay.” 

“Good. GOOD.” He puts his head onto my shoulder. His body heat feels nice. I smile and close my eyes, enjoying the rare peaceful moment. “I think Lycan is gonna die soon,” he mutters into my skin. 

“Cool.” 

“Gonna cut his throat, leave pretty marks on Lycan’s skin, watch blood spill. Beautiful, just like your scars,” he says softly, holding my arm down and adding some new ones. I accept them, looking at the dim stars over his shoulder. He pushes himself off me and jumps from the roof. 

I bolt up and run over, almost falling. “Joker?” He pops up suddenly and I yelp.

“Scared?” he asks, eyes glittering, “Let’s go running.” 

“Running?” I ask cautiously, letting him take my hand and haul me to the ground. 

“I, ha!, wanna blow something up! Make people _scream_ ,” he says, tugging me through the dirty streets. Joker hands me a knife, blade first. I take it anyway. “If anyone tries to grab you, _stab_ them with this,” he orders. 

I laugh. “I know how a knife works, Joker.”

“Good. Come on, Quinn. We’re gonna have fun,” he hisses. 

 

He kills someone that night. It isn’t the first time for him, of course. And I’ve seen him kill people before, that girl in my class and some of his men. It still scares me. I think the only time Joker is truly happy is when he’s destroying something.   
We go into the nice part of Gotham that night. He shows me the pretty houses row by row, Bruce Wayne’s mansion up on its hill. We throw stones at statues along the river and smash store windows. I watch him as he swings a bat through glass cases, crushes jewelry and registers to bits but doesn’t take a thing. We hit four stores before someone stops us. A security who’d escaped Joker’s notice.  
The name on his plastic badge reads _Earl_. He creeps over to us, holding out his hands. They’re shaking. He has to be at least sixty, too old to be doing this. But too young to die. The store hasn’t even given him a gun. He stands up to Joker anyway, his mouth set steady. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop. Put the bat down,” he says sternly, eyes focused on Joker. Joker smirks and spreads his arms wide, letting the bat drop. The clatter makes me and the security guard jump. “Now, just...leave. I’m not going to arrest you, just...leave. Please,” he quavers.

I want to leave, and let the man return to his grandchildren. Of course, the Joker can’t let it go. He leaps for the guard, knife in hand. I scream, “No!” but he kills the guard, laughing. The man gurgles and clutches at his neck as blood spurts. Joker tosses him aside and comes back to me, still laughing. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” I hiss angrily.

He looks back at me and grins. “Yes. I did.” I bite my lip and glance over at the dead man. His eyes are wide and staring. “Quinn. Come,” Joker orders, tugging at my sleeve.  
I swallow back tears and follow him. The dead guard haunts my mind for hours.


	4. Zoe

I forget about him by the next day. Joker is in a good mood, chatting while he dances around the attic. “Quinnie! Guess what we’re doing today!”

“Uh, blowing something up?”

He laughs. “No! We’re visiting Ivy and Scarecrow.” He twists his hands together and licks his lips, pushing his face close to mine. “Lycan is _close_ , Quinn. We’re so, ha!, so damn _close_. Lycan is gonna die today, and then, hoo!, we’ll have fun!” 

I nod and back up, rubbing the buttons of my jacket. It’s become a nervous habit. Joker grabs my hands and tugs me to him. I wince, expecting the sting of his knife, but all he does is wrap a blindfold around my head.   
“What are you doing?”

I can feel his warm hands on my shoulders as he steers me forward. “We’re going to visit _Scarecrow’s_ house,” he whispers, “and he doesn’t trust you enough to show you the way.” 

I flinch and try to turn back, take the blindfold off, anything to get away from Scarecrow. Joker holds my wrists together, easily keeping me still. My heart is beating painfully fast and I scream, lashing out at Joker with my legs. He grunts and hits me upside the head, hard enough that I stagger back. I trip over something and land on my ass.  
The ground under me feels like it might be cement, cool and slightly damp. I can hear the tap of Joker’s footsteps coming towards me. “Shut up, Quinn,” he murmurs, gagging my mouth and tying my legs together. I’m helpless.   
“If you had been a good girl, you could’ve walked there,” he says, hauling me over his shoulder. Talking through the gag is impossible, so I don’t try.

 

It feels like a very long time before he sets me down on my feet with a stern, “Don’t move, Quinn.” I wait patiently until he comes back and unties me. “Alright, come on.” We’re somewhere dark, probably underground. I think it looks like a sewer, but the entire place is dry, almost sterile.   
Bottles line the walls, filled with liquids I can’t identify. It’s dim, only just bright enough for me to see. There are used syringes scattered across the floor, crunching when I step on them. I shudder. Scarecrow’s lair.  
I’m where Scarecrow lives, where he performs his fear experiments. His bed is in the corner. Poison Ivy lounges on it, long legs dangling over the edge. Scarecrow sits by her. She yawns and stretches, brushing his chest. He blinks and coughs, tugging at his collar. Poison Ivy straightens and smiles at us. 

She blows me a kiss, wafting the smell of flowers through the room. “Joker. Smiley. Even better news than last time.” Joker sits casually at her feet, scratching idly into the bed frame. 

Scarecrow clears his throat. “Ahem. Joker. What did I say about damaging my home? You may move to a new place every few weeks, but some of us prefer to stay in one safe, _undamaged_ spot.” Joker laughs and tosses the knife up, catching it between his palms. I look around and decide that Scarecrow’s place is creepier than Poison Ivy’s.   
She may have plants that move, but Scarecrow’s lair is too clean. I’ve heard the rumors, that he was a doctor at Arkham who went mad, used his knowledge of the mind and chemicals to create his persona, but I’ve never really believed them. It sounds more like a myth than the truth. I believe it now.   
No one but a doctor would have labeled every single mixture by its elements. I know I’m right when I notice a framed certificate on the wall-a doctor’s license. It’s stained and wrinkled. The Hippocratic Oath has been scratched out, leaving behind only the word _harm_.

I’m thankful when Poison Ivy claps impatiently. “Ahem. Boys. I believe we’re here to kill Lycan.” 

Joker smiles and nods. “You have news, Ivy?” 

She smiles slightly, lacing her fingers together. “My flowers have found Lycan.” Poison Ivy closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, smiling. “I can sense it right now.”

“Well? Where is he?” Joker snaps, cutting the pads of his fingers. Blood drips down his palms, but he just licks it off. The room is edgy, violent.

Poison Ivy is caressing her plants, hissing comments to them, and Scarecrow is filling his needles with a goopy yellow liquid. “Lycan messed up. Picked a flower.” She sighs sadly and puts a hand to her heart. “Poor little plant. Lycan brought it home. The plant recognized Lycan’s touch and cried out for me, for peace. It still is.”   
She sniffs, wiping away tears. “I’m sure that’s where they are. Probably would’ve kept it. It is...” She winces. “It _was_ a very beautiful flower.” 

Scarecrow taps his needles anxiously against the floor, making me flinch and move closer to Joker. “Well, where is he?” 

“Or her,” Poison Ivy says sternly. “We still don’t know gender. Lycan is in Gotham, at the heart of the city. It’s living in Wayne Apartments, the older rooms.” 

Joker whistles. “My my, those are expensive. Looks like, ha!, Doggy has money to _spare_.” 

Poison Ivy nods, then leans closer to the men. “Are we ready to attack, boys?”

Scarecrow clicks his syringes together and nods. “I have all my toxins.” 

Joker giggles and opens his hands, showing off his knives before patting his jacket. “I’ve got all my little...tricks.” That explains why his jacket had been rattling. They’d come prepared for this. 

She smiles and stands, strolling over to the exit. “Shall we attack now, while the element of surprise is there?”

“Of course. Lead the way, Ivy,” Joker says, blindfolding me again. 

“Is your...pet coming along, Joker?” Scarecrow sneers. I stiffen. His voice is different. He has to be wearing the hood. The mask. The hand full of needles. The laughter that still haunts my dreams. 

I’ll never forget it. Joker just chuckles, pushing me forward. “Now, be nice to Quinnie. She’s one of us now.” Scarecrow doesn’t respond.

 

I’m not sure how long we walk. Time kind of blurs after a while. When Joker finally removes the blindfold I still feel lost. We’re on the streets of Gotham, but nowhere I’ve ever been. I can’t see Poison Ivy or Scarecrow and I only recognize Joker cause he’s holding my hand. His collar is turned up high, hiding the scars. 

“Where is everyone?” I whisper.

He looks down and gives me a mad smile, clearly getting amped up. “Ivy’s up there, in the cloak thing.” I see finally-she wears a long, loose green dress. Scarecrow has to be the lurching, hooded man next to her. 

“Oh. I see. Are we almost there?” 

He laughs softly and nods. “We’re close, so, ha!, close I can taste Lycan’s _blood_.” 

I shiver. “Oh.” 

 

Wayne Apartments is in an older part of town, wealthier. It makes me think of a movie from the 20s. Poison Ivy stops before the building and puts her hands to her chest, closing her eyes. “I sense it. The flower is here.”

“Well, let’s go then!” Joker says, tugging me forward. 

She looks back and gives him a deadly smile. “Patience, Joker. We don’t want Lycan to know we’re here.”  
He settles back and watches while she sways inside, bends over the counter, and enchants the guard in seconds. His eyes are glassy and glowing green. She turns from him and waves us in. The place is very quiet, hushed.   
The floors are marble and everything seems to be gold or velvet. People like me don’t belong here. “It’s up higher,” Poison Ivy whispers. We take the elevator, which is kind of funny. Poison Ivy checks her nails while Joker hums over the music.   
When we reach the tenth floor she stops us and steps out. “This. Yes. This is where we’ll find Lycan.” I’m getting a bit creeped out. Her eyes shine and her hair is waving behind her, without wind. She presses her palms to a door and smiles. “Here.” 

Joker grins. “Good. Stand back.” I shut my eyes as he places a round, smiling bomb in front of the door. It’s only a second before the thing explodes.  
Someone yelps inside the room, and they run in. I stay against the wall, unwilling and unable to join them. I honestly have no idea why Joker would choose to bring me along. The room is spartan, empty except for a TV. It looks like she uses the entry for practicing. I think there are a few other rooms branching off from there.   
She has weights lying all around. She’s young, probably around my age. She has large, dark eyes and blonde hair that’s cropped short. She’s small and slim, but standing in a way that suggests ferocity and strength. She looks somehow soft, though. Surprised and scared, having her home invaded.  
“It’s her,” Joker hisses. “I’d, ha!, recognize her anywhere.” 

The girl stands up straight, but her mouth is trembling. “Get out of here! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Joker lets out one of his long, infamous cackles.

“Oh dear, what a _liar_ you are,” Poison Ivy murmurs, stepping towards her.

That’s when everything seems to happen. Scarecrow leaps forward and shoves a needle into her stomach. I can hear it go into her. She screams and drops to her knees, eyes rolling back in her head. It makes bile rise, remembering the effect of his toxins.   
Poison Ivy wraps a vine around her throat, squeezing tight. I close my eyes and turn away, but not before I see Joker kneel over her, grinning. “No, no! You _can’t_ make noise! Guess I’ll have to cut out your tongue.”  
There’s a wet sound and a howl that makes me jump, then just muffled screams. I want to run away, leave, never look back at what’s happening to this girl.

It seems like hours before Poison Ivy stops them, saying, “Alright. We’ve made our point. No one will disrespect us again. Kill her.” Her voice’s cold, but a wave of warmth runs through me when she walks from the room, stroking her nails down my face.   
She holds a flower, large and dark blue with purple specks. Lycan’s flower. “Buh-bye, Smiley. See you later.”  
I whimper and curl further up. There are more soft, chopping sounds. I know what they are, and it makes me sick. Lycan isn’t screaming anymore. 

She isn’t making any noise, but I still don’t hear Joker walk over to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I shriek. “Quinn. Shh, shh. Shut up.” There’s blood on his hands, splattered up his sleeves. “Get up. I want you to see this.”

I close my eyes again, shaking my head. “N...no...No. C-Can’t.” 

He pulls me up by the hair. I squeal and try to push him away, but he presses a knife to my lips. His voice is flat, quiet. “Go, Quinn. Or I’ll cut your tongue out too. I don’t need it.”  
I swallow and obey. I regret it immediately. Lycan...the girl...is collapsed on the floor. Scarecrow crouches by her body, taking a sample of something. I prefer not to think why. Blood is everywhere, pooled underneath her corpse, on what’s left of her clothes and skin.   
Even her blonde hair is stained red. One of them has found her claws and stuck them through her throat, which still has Poison Ivy’s vine around it. Joker’s carved a smile on her face. I step on something squishy and look down.   
Her tongue. I’ve stepped on her tongue. It’s then that I vomit, running to a corner of the room and losing everything in my stomach. Joker and Scarecrow are moving behind me, opening something. I turn to see them shoving her out the window.   
Joker tosses a handful of playing cards after her and laughs, laughs until he’s half out the window, pointing below. Scarecrow leaves then. We’re alone in an apartment that reeks of blood and puke. Joker stands up and walks over to me, making me take his hands.  
When I do he lets go and grabs my chin, holding my head still. I can feel the tears on my face. “Quinnie, did you, did you, ha!, see that? Did you see what happened to that girl?” I nod, trying to get away from him. He slaps me until I stop moving. “That’s, ha!, that’s what happens to people who disrespect me, who make me _angry_.”   
He licks a tear from my cheek and whispers, “That’s why you need to listen, what’ll happen, haha, if you leave me and try to go back to a _normal_ life. Do you understand?” I tear my head from his hands and try to run, but he grabs me again, squeezing my jaw so tightly it crunches. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND, GIRL?” I nod and he grins.  
“Good, GOOD! Now, let’s go home and celebrate.” Joker begins to walk away, but then he turns back and embraces me. “Honest, Quinn, everything is okay. You’re mine, Quinnie. It’s okay. I’ll keep you _safe_. I wouldn’t really cut out your tongue. I like your tongue. C’mon, give me a smile.”  
I smile weakly against his shoulder, trying to memorize his words and this rare kindness. When he lets go I willingly take his hand, and we go home. I barely notice the Lycan’s battered body on the pavement outside.

 

When we get back home someone is waiting for us. He’s gotten into the house and is sitting on the table, tapping his fingers against the wood. The guy is small and skinny with dark hair. He wears a trench coat. Joker tenses, hand going to his pocket. The man smiles and hops up. “Joker! You’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for such a long time.” 

Joker relaxes and ushers me upstairs. “It’s alright, Quinn. He’s a friend.” He turns to the guy. “So, Clay, what brings you here?” 

“You released me, eh? I came here to thank you.”

“Sure you did. Just, heh, remember you owe me. I’m gonna need you soon. You can’t stay disguised forever.” 

Clay laughs and...melts, is the only way I can describe it. His skin bubbles and drips off, and he grows to at least seven feet. In a matter of seconds the pleasant young man has turned into a monster. Joker doesn’t seem to mind, though, so I try to compose myself. “I won’t be disguised at all,” Clay rumbles, spitting mud onto the floor. 

“Quinn, this is Clayface. Clayface, Quinn,” Joker says, dumping himself onto a chair.

“Quinn? Eh? Never heard of you. What’re you doing with a girl, Joker? How’d you get one to be with you?” Joker chuckles and pats my head. There’s still blood on his hands, but I gulp and try to ignore it. 

“You’ve been in Arkham for a long time, huh? Had her, ah, for a few months now. Kidnapped her.” They laugh together. “Now, tell me, hah, the real reason you’re here, Clay.”

He shrugs sloppily. “Figured out where you live. Thought I might have a visit, ask what you wanted me for.” 

“Figured out where I live?” Joker turns to me. “Quinn. Get the suitcase. We’re moving again.” I grab the suitcase and return to his side, careful not to touch Clayface. “Anyway, Clay, I don’t need you right now. When I do, I’ll find you. Until then...”   
Clayface smiles and melts again, right through the floorboards. I can hear him oozing away. Joker grabs my shoulder and leads me from the attic.

 

We stop at a dingy apartment. Joker tosses the suitcase aside and sprawls on the couch. I sit beside him. It’s been a long day and a lot of walking. The room, of course, already has a TV. It’s like he’s addicted to watching the news, even when he’s not on it. I curl farther into his side, feeling brave.  
I’ve been thinking a lot, lately. Mostly about what Poison Ivy had said when I was eavesdropping, about him not fucking me. Weird thing to think about, but I’ve been wondering. Aren’t I good enough? Is it the facial scars? “Joker. Why haven’t you fucked me yet?” 

He raises an eyebrow and looks down at me. “Would you _like_ me to?”

“Sure.” 

“Alright.” He rolls over on top of me and laughs the whole time.

 

I wake up smiling. I yawn, stretch, and scream. Someone is in the room with me. It isn’t Joker. It’s Batman. He crouches near me, black eyes on my face. “Uh...hi.”

I pull a jacket over myself and pretend I’m not panicking, praying he hasn’t caught Joker too. “Are you alright?”

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He scoops me up easily, kicking the door open as he goes. He also takes Joker’s suitcase.   
I think I’m in shock, unable to move even though inside I’m screaming. I want to kick and shriek, shout that I want, _need_ to stay with Joker. I can’t though. 

It seems I’m still considered a victim, an innocent hostage, because Batman keeps asking me if I’m okay, and there’s a happy commotion when he carries me outside. Commissioner Gordon is waiting, squinting sympathetically at me. Batman hands me over to him and takes off into the night, still carrying Joker’s suitcase.  
I watch him go, trying to hide my resentment. I cling to Commissioner Gordon and pretend that the tears leaking from my eyes are of gratitude. They take me back to the station so I can be evaluated. I notice how uneasy they are around me, the way their eyes skitter across my scars.

Commissioner Gordon leads me to a bare room, smiling gently. “Quinn, we’re giving you clothes to change into, alright?” I nod thankfully and take his offering of jeans and a t-shirt. It about kills me to remove the jacket, the last part of Joker I have left, but I do. I have to.  
Everyone thinks I’m innocent, and I don’t want that to change. I don’t want their suspicion cast fully on me, or to get arrested. I just want to get out. A woman comes in and gives me a quick physical. She’s young, and she cries as she examines me, gently brushing every bruise and cut. 

“You poor thing. That monster...he beat you all over. You’re lucky to have escaped.” I look at the wounds and cry myself, but not from horror. From the thought that now all the marks that prove I’m his will be gone, healed. All except for the tattoo, which they don’t notice where it’s hidden under my fro. 

I touch it every few minutes, feel the bump of the tracking device under my fingers. I want to be sure at least part of him is still there. The woman leaves, letting in Commissioner Gordon again. He asks me questions. It feels like interrogation, like I’m some sort of felon.

“Where did he take you? What did you do? Does he trust anyone? Do you know his real name? How did he find Lycan? What’s he planning next? How did he get Clayface out?” I lie or pretend I don’t know. I weep and tell them he’d locked me in a closet most of the time, unless he was beating me.  
It feels good to fool these stupid people into pity. I go over my “ordeal” until five the next morning, when half the cops are yawning. I ask how they’d found me, acting like I’m grateful. One of the younger cops explains that Clayface had told. He’d been caught by Batman again and spilled everything.  
He’s sitting in one of the cells, looking chagrined and bruised. Only his hands remain clay. I smile and thank him when we walk by, although I really want to go for his throat. Weak, cowardly Clayface.

The cops tell me they’ll keep an eye on me. I know what they’re really saying. I’m being used as bait. They hope Joker will come back for me so they can catch him. None of them really care about me, I know that. I play nice, even when my mother comes to pick me up, filled with false tears and fake endearments.

“Oh, Quinn, baby, my precious daughter, thank God you’re home!” She embraces me, hugging til it hurts, filling my nose with the smell of alcohol. I wrinkle my face and pull back, but she forces me close to her side.  
She angles me in front of the media outside, pushing me closer to the cameras. I wince and try to shield my face as they descend upon me, cameras flashing. “Quinn! Quinn! What’s the Joker like?” 

“Is he really as crazy as they say?”

“How did you stay alive?” They crowd around me, shoving cameras in my face, shouting question after question. I want, suddenly, to kill them. It would be easy, I realize.  
They’re all so close together, all I need is a gun, and their noise will be gone. They’re unimportant. I can kill them all. I want to kill them all. I think that’s the moment I begin to go insane.

 

As soon as we get home, away from the cameras, Mom drops the act and begins ignoring me again. I don’t let it bother me. I’m already going through the knives, stealing the best ones. Mom has a new boyfriend, a weaselly white guy named Tom.   
I don’t like him, or the way he leers and puts an arm around my waist. I don’t belong to him, I belong to the Joker. He loves me. It takes me awhile to really fall back into normal life. I only sleep a few hours a night, having got used to Joker’s nocturnal life style. The cops give up and stop watching me after a week with no sign of Joker.  
I go back to a school where everyone is scared of me. I’ve spent six months with Joker, and no one can forget that. They avoid me totally, even the teachers. They’re nervous around me, eyes on my scars. I smile more often, cruelly satisfied with the affect it has on people.  
It isn’t enough, though. I’m empty, hollowed without the Joker. Everything seems boring and lifeless. I take to leaving a scar for every day I spend without him, spend most of my time playing with knives or watching the news. I even go out searching for him at night, but he never appears.   
The days turn into weeks and I don’t hear from him. I’m tense and ready to snap completely. Joker once said that everyone is just one bad day away from snapping, become as crazy as he is. He said that he’s just a normal guy who had a bad day. Think about it. One bad day away from insanity. Well, I’ve had several bad weeks. I’m pretty sure that entitles me to madness.

Tom, the guy my mom is dating, is my first victim. He grabs my ass, sneering, “I like girls with scars. Why don’t you show me the rest of them?” I push his hand off and spin, hand on my knife.  
I discover just how easy it is to kill that day, when I slit Tom’s throat and kneel over his body, laughing hysterically. I feel strong, powerful. I’ve done something to protect myself and gotten rid of a slime ball. Gotten rid of a threat. I giggle while I drag him to my mother’s room.   
Let her pay for her neglect of me. Mom comes home drunk, passes out on our couch. I carry her upstairs and wrap her hand around the knife, then wipe my prints away. I leave her sprawled beside him like trash. Then I run away. I find the places Joker has lived with me and sleep there, one hand always on my knife. I eat from the trash or steal.  
I know I have to hide. If the police don’t believe my mother has killed Tom, they’ll be looking for me. I’m still happy. I’m free, away from stupid, boring people. I’m still looking for Joker, but I get nothing. Nothing, that is, until a man shows up at my front door with a box. He hands it to me and leaves without saying a word. I’m so excited I rip the box to shreds trying to open it.   
Inside there’s a horror novel titled, “It Came Through The Window”. I giggle and hold the book to my chest, then run upstairs and throw the window wide open.

 

He comes for me after that, tumbles through my window already laughing. My heart races happily at just the sight of him. “Quinnie! You, ha!, got my _book?_ Did ya like it?” I nod. “Did you miss me?” I nod again. His face hardens and he grins, coming at me with a knife, pinning me against the wall. “Why, uh, why’d you leave me all alone? I, ha!, I thought we had SOMETHING good going on. Then you were gone. And I thought I made you _happy_ ,” he hisses into my ear. “You _know_ I don’t like betrayal. So, haha!, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

He holds the knife to my throat, but I manage to stop him, screaming, “No! I didn’t want to!” 

He lowers the knife. “Eh?” 

“Please, it was Batman, he found where I was and stole me. Clayface told. I’m sorry! I’ve looked for you every day.”

His face clears up in an instant, and he grins. I smile back. “Ah, there’s that smile I’ve missed so much! It’s, ha!, all good, Quinn. You’re mine again.”

He kisses the scars on either side of my mouth and lets me down. I nod, pulling up my sleeves. “See? I left a scar for every day you weren’t with me.”

He examines my arm, eyes shining with glee. Then he starts cackling, throwing his head back. “Why, why, _Quinn_ , I do believe I’ve made you as strange as I am!” I nod, pleased by his compliment. 

“I killed my mom’s boyfriend and framed her, even.” Joker laughs and laughs until he’s shaking, holding my shoulder for support. 

Then he grabs my chin, peering closer. “Why so serious? Give me a smile.” I grin for him, feeling alive again. The Joker is back.

 

He keeps giggling as he leads me through the streets, hand warm in mine. “As...ha!...as strange as I am! As strange as me!” Every so often he’ll stop and pull me into an alley, hold my face in his hands. “Give me a _smile_ , Quinn!” 

I’ll smile and he’ll laugh, kiss the scar along my nose. “Joker, where are we going?” 

He looks back at me and grins, squeezing my hand tight. “A new place. A BIG one! I, ha, I think you’ll like it. Lots of company.”

“Huh?” He won’t go on. 

When we finally reach our destination he stops suddenly, making me stumble and fall. He slaps me lightly on the back of my head, but I don’t mind. “Welcome home, Quinn,” he says, leading me inside. The place is a warehouse, stacked to the ceiling with boxes. His men are moving around, chatting lightly and holding boxes.  
I figure Joker doesn’t mind them seeing me anymore, now that I’ve officially joined him. He lets loose that infamous cackle and they all stop in their tracks, looking around nervously until they spot him. 

“Uh, hey, boss,” one of them says. He’s a burly guy with scars all over his bald head. His eyes flick to my own scars, and his lips go white.

“Hi, Frowny. You, ah, get everything ready?” Joker asks. Frowny nods and backs away. I smile, enjoying the feel of power. With Joker, everyone is scared of me, even thugs like these men. “C’mon, Quinn. I have a few things to organize,” he says.

 

Joker is living upstairs, in a room that had probably once been an office. It holds a bed, a TV, food, and a spinny chair I figure had been left behind. He’s replaced the suitcase that Batman had stolen. I still don’t know what it holds. Joker settles himself into the chair and watches me, eyes glittering. “Feel like home?” he says softly, smirking.

“Yeah.” I sigh happily, going to sit on the bed. He rolls over to me and plops his legs across my lap. 

“You got thinner, Quinn.” I shrug. His face hardens and he moves closer to me. I lean away, wondering why he’s angry, but it isn’t at me this time. “Now, Quinnie, I wanna talk about _Clayface_ ,” he hisses, gripping my hand. His other hand holds a knife, spinning it through his fingers.

“Uh...okay.” 

“You said Clayface was, ah, a little tattle tale, that he gave away where we were staying.” I nod. “Clayface is gonna _pay_ , Quinnie. Where, haha, where is he now?” 

“The police station, I think. Or, uh, or Arkham,” I stutter.

He’s running his knife along the scarred bumps of my skin, smiling to himself. “I’ll have to, hoo!, pay him a visit,” Joker whispers.

“Yeah.” I feel the new madness inside me, the one that had made me kill Tom. I want Clayface to be hurt for what he’s done to me, to Joker. 

Joker pats my head when I yawn. “Go to sleep.” I curl up on the bed feeling content and fall asleep quickly.

 

When I wake up he’s gone. I get out of bed and pad over to the fridge, hoping for leftovers. There are some cold slices of pizza, so I have those for breakfast. I go to the bathroom and find an unopened toothbrush, brush my teeth, and go downstairs to the warehouse.

There are a few guys down there. They look busier than the day before, barking orders at each other as they work. “Hurry up, man! The boss ain’t gonna be happy if we’re not set up by the time he’s back!” 

“Put them over there, I’ll get them later.” I step into view and they stop for a second, staring at me before they continue. I wonder what they think of me. They seem scared, probably because of my scars, and rumors.  
After all, I’m the girl who survived months with the Joker, so something has to be wrong with me. I feel normal, but maybe they’re right. I push that thought away and watch as they set up a large clear tank in the middle of the room, then close off the top. I have no idea what it was. I find out quickly.  
Joker bursts through the door carrying a fishbowl filled with grey liquid. It keeps sloshing back and forth, making muffled noises. It’s Clayface. Joker strides over to the tank, opens a door in the top, and jumps in, letting the fishbowl smash into pieces.   
Clayface immediately forms into his monster size, taking a swing at Joker. Joker dances away from his fist and laughs, passing his knife from palm to palm. Clayface makes another grab for him and dissolves into goop. He rumbles something too low for me to hear that makes Joker laugh. 

“C’mon, Clay. You didn’t really think that I would go up against you in a fair fight.” He kneels next to Clayface and pushes a knife into them, making him howl. “I asked my old pal Scarecrow for a recipe that’ll just make you _melt_ ,” he snickers. He stands and presses his face against the glass, smudging it with crooked fingers.  
“Leave me. I have, heh, private business,” he says, motioning us out of the room. I leave with the men, absently noting that they’re careful not to touch me. Clayface’s screams echo around the warehouse the whole night.

At about five in the morning, Joker comes back upstairs, laughing to himself. He’s covered in what looks like muddy blood, and his hands are filthy. “Did you kill him?” I ask.

“Nah. Can’t kill a guy as useful as that. Just, ha, I just wanted to make sure he knows the _price_ of betrayal,” he says, stripping off the muddy clothes. “I’m takin’ a shower. Wanna join?” he asks, winking at me. I grin and follow him.

 

Joker keeps Clayface in that tank for a few days. He doesn’t hurt him again, he just keeps him there. Eventually, Scarecrow’s chemicals drain from Clayface’s system and he reforms. He’ll take the shape of whoever is closest to him at the time, probably to unsettle people. It works.  
Whenever I walk by he’ll morph into me and leer horribly. I think he makes my scars worse than they really are. He doesn’t dare try that with Joker. I see the way he shrinks back when Joker comes up to the tank. It’s funny.

I come in one night and Clayface is gone, as is the tank. I look to Joker, who says, “I let him go this morning.” He claps his hands together and turns to his men. “Alright, you know what has to be done!” 

They scurry off in every direction, leaving me alone with the Joker. “What’s going on?” I ask. 

“Robbing a bank,” he says casually, strolling over to examine an unopened box. “Oh, and people are, ah, searching for you again.” I shrug, feeling strangely unworried.   
It’s happened before. I’m probably still considered innocent, so if they catch me, I won’t be jailed. I don’t want to be taken away from Joker again, though. He pulls a gun out from the box and comes back to me, turning it over in his hands.   
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you,” he says. Then he lifts the gun and points it at me, squinting down the barrel. I freeze. “Y’know, usually I prefer knives, but, ha, guns are nice too. Don’t take as long. Kills more people at once. But knives...”  
He drops the gun with a clatter and I flinch. “Well, knives make a _statement_. They, haha, they really let you get close. _Personal_. No on forgets a knife.” He slips up behind me and holds the blade to my throat. I swallow, feeling the cold metal press into my skin. “They’re fast. Easy to hide. Leave such pretty marks, too.”  
He cuts a line down my cheek and licks blood away, grinning. “You look so beautiful, Quinnie.” I relax and smile as he rubs his thumb along my tattoo.

 

Joker goes to join his men after that, and I get bored. I’m slightly tempted to open the suitcase and take a peek, but I don’t dare. I sit on the bed, kicking my legs back and forth, daydreaming until my eyes catch the spinny chair. I grin.   
It suddenly feels like a long time since I’ve had some good, legal fun. I turn and wheel into the hallway. The floor is tiled and easy to roll down. I spin around and around through the maze of corridors I’ve never seen before. Walls and doors pass dizzily by, and I start giggling. I feel four years old again, unscarred and carefree. I turn a corner laughing, only to stop suddenly. 

I glance down to see pale hands wrapped around the arms of the chair, holding me in place. I look up into Joker’s grinning face. “Uh...hi,” I mumble, hoping he’s not angry. “Was I, er, not s-supposed to do that?” 

His eyes dance and he kisses my scars. “No! No, Quinn, play all you like. I haha, I sometimes forget how young you are.”

I giggle and gently tap his nose. “You’re not much older than I am!” 

He shrugs and tugs me out of the chair, sits down, and pulls me into his lap, spinning us around. “Ha! I don’t know how old I am,” he says in my ear. That makes me sad, but I don’t say anything.

We play around with the chair for a while longer, until I’m gasping with laughter and near sick from spinning. It’s about one in the morning, not even close to day, so I’m not sleepy. I feel impatient and excited. I keep jumping up and down, babbling on about random things, clutching at his arm.   
Eventually Joker gets annoyed, so he backhands me across my chest. I tumble to my ass, overcame the pain, and stand up. “Calm down, or I’ll break your ankles,” he growls. I gulp and nod. He relaxes and seems to drift into thought. “Hey, Quinn.”

“Yeah?” 

“You still have, heh, the knife I gave you that night I killed a security guard?” 

“I don’t think so. Why?” 

He rummages around in his pockets and produces a knife, which he gives to me. “Keep this. You, ha, might need it soon.”

“Okay...” I tuck it carefully into my pocket. “Why will I need it?”

“Eh. Just in case,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my neck. “Quinn, do ya want another tattoo?” 

I look at him from the corner of my eyes. “Are you going to knock me out for it?”

“Yeah. It’s, haha, funny, watching you all sleepy and limp.” 

I sigh. “I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”

He chuckles. “Nope.”

“Why do you need me to have one?”

“Pretty.”

I huff and cross my arms. “Fine. Whatever. Just get it done with.” He sprays a gas at me and my eyes flutter shut.

 

I wake up with a pain in my side, just under my tits. It stings. “Joker?” 

“Eh?” We’re back in his room. Joker’s lounging in the chair, idly spinning. 

“You didn’t have to fucking gas me!” I snarl. He’s up in an instant, hand over my mouth.

“I don’t like to hear a woman swear,” he says quietly before removing his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“Do you want to see the tattoo?” His fingers snake up my shirt to brush the stinging I’d felt before. 

“Sure.” He tosses me a mirror and waits as I lift my shirt up. The tattoo is bigger than the one on my neck, colored with garish ink. It reads _Smiley_ in jagged letters. I touch it, searching for another tracking device, but all I feel are the bumps of my ribs. 

“Why’d you force me to get this?” I ask, deciding not to mention the gassing. 

“Wanted to make sure you never forget who you are,” he says, then traces my neck tattoo, “or who you belong to.” 

I blush, can’t help but smile. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Good girl, Quinn.” He stands up and walks over to the table, splaying his hands against the wood. “Catwoman is back. Dunno what, eh, side she’s on anymore,” he tells me. I perk up.  
Everyone knows about Catwoman, everyone wonders about Catwoman. She’s a celebrity, and not a feared one like the Joker. We had idolized her at my school and in the Narrows, where she often leaves jewels. To me, she’s a heroine, a sort of sexy, feline Robin Hood who never picks good or evil. 

“Will we see her?” I ask, trying not to show my excitement. 

He catches it though, and laughs. “Are you her fangirl, Quinn?” I shake my head but he keeps smirking. “I dunno. We might meet up with her for a little. It depends how she’s _feeling_.” He kicks at the table leg. “She’s not, hah, exactly fond of me.” He looks up and grins evilly. “Likes Bat Brain too much to accept my... _unique_ treatment of him.” 

“Oh.” I stop thinking about Catwoman and lay on my back, letting my fingers rest against the new tattoo. Smiley. It feels nice, a mark that I belong. “Are you going to get me any more tattoos?” I say. 

“Probably. I like them. Almost as, haha, good as knives for leaving my mark.” He flips me over and walks his fingers up my spine. “I’m the world’s only homicidal artist,” he says softly, “so I might as well make _you_ a work of art, too.”

I melt into his touch, which is a welcome gentleness. “Mkay.” I might have drifted off into sleep, but there’s a crash downstairs and the sounds of fighting. Joker rushes from the room, knife already in hand. I follow.

The men are fighting downstairs, but not with each other. They battle a slim black figure that whirls effortlessly among them, taking out a man with a graceful kick or punch. Catwoman. I hold back to watch with awe and a bit of jealousy.  
She’s as beautiful as I’ve heard, if not more. She’s shorter than I had expected, and slender in a dangerous way. I envy her curves, which are almost cartoonish. The black catsuit clings to every one of them. I can’t see her infamous green eyes, only her full red lips and pointed chin.  
She snarls and crouches, brandishing sharp steel claws. I follow her gaze to Joker. He smiles and opens his arms wide with welcome. 

“Catwoman! It’s been, hoo!, such a long time. How are you?” 

She hisses at him and stands carefully. “I wasn’t aware you were staying here, Joker.” She nods up at a broken window high above. “I came through there and was met by your....men.” 

She sounds pretty calm, but I notice the way her hands are tensed, claws ready to strike. She keeps glancing towards the doors and windows, searching for exits. “I’m very sorry,” Joker says. He sounds sincere enough, but her hands clench even more, and she bares her teeth a little.

“I’ll just be going then.” Catwoman strolls over to a tower of boxes, hips swinging. She leaps easily from box to box and flips from the window without making a sound. We all watch her go in silence.

Joker is the first to speak. “So, Quinn, you finally met her. _Impressive_ , eh?” 

His voice is hard and dangerous. “Y-yeah,” I stutter, forgetting entirely about Catwoman when his eyes narrow. He pats my neck and orders the men to work. Joker drags me upstairs, then throws me to the floor. I whimper and curl up when pain races through my side. The tattoo is still fresh. 

“So, Quinn, you, ha!, you like Kitty more than ME?” he said. 

“No! I don’t!”

“I don’t like being _betrayed_ , you know. Gonna leave me, Quinn? Become a kitten rather than a clown?” He keeps moving around me, too fast for my eyes to follow. 

I try to stay still, instinctively hoping he’ll forget his anger. “Please...” He kicks my ribs, hard enough that something creaks. I cough and try to get away from him, but he grabs my arm and twists, pulling me back. 

“You’re _mine_ , Quinn. Marked. MINE!”

“I know! I am!” I shriek, kicking at him. He lifts me up by the collar and throws me against the wall with a bang. I feel the wall bend behind me and crack. I slump to the ground as Joker storms from the room. I curled up and cry into my knees.   
My ribs ache and I can feel bruises forming all over my body. My eye is throbbing. I touch it gently and wince, then start crying when my hand comes away red. Joker has given me a bloody nose. I’m angry, but also ashamed. Maybe he’s gone a tad too far, but I shouldn’t have talked about Catwoman so much.   
I know he gets jealous easily. I force myself up and totter to a bathroom, ignoring stares from the few men still in the hallway. I stop the bleeding and dab at my bruises. The scent of my blood fills the room and I begin to feel sick, stomach twisting. I puke into the toilet and wipe my mouth before returning to the room.

 

I’m sleeping fitfully when Joker comes back. I feel his hand on my back and open my eyes. It’s too hard to open my left eye, which he’s blackened, so I stop trying. “Hey, Quinn,” he says gently, tracing the bruise on my face.

“H-Hi.” 

“Got you pretty bad this time, huh?” 

I struggle up to my elbow, whimpering when my ribs twinge. “Just a little. It’s okay though.” He chuckles and takes his jacket off, draping it over a chair and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Where did you go?” 

“Went to let, ha, off a bit of steam,” he tells me as he goes to the kitchen. “You hungry?” 

“Yeah,” I say. I expect him to toss me a granola bar or something, but instead there are rummaging noises. “What are you doing?” 

He leans out from the kitchen and grins at me. “Getting you something for that eye.” He searches around for a bit before coming out with a side of beef. “Here. Use this.” It’s damp and heavy, kind of gross.

I take it anyway and press it against my face. “Why are you helping me?”

He screws up his mouth and looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Eh?”

“I get hurt all the time. You never gave me anything to heal myself. Why now?”

He gives me an easy smile, tossing over an apple and crackers. “I didn’t _mean_ to bruise your face. I fix things when I make mistakes.” I accept that and eat.   
Joker turns the TV on and sits in the chair, elbows on his knees. He seems pretty intent on it, so I sit there silently and watch with him. He’s on the news. A penthouse, belonging to Cassie Rivera, has been blown up. Three people are dead, twenty wounded. She’s fine, but the money she’d kept there is gone.   
Cassie Rivera is a socialite who inherited all her money from her mom and wastes it on ridiculous parties. The news changes to commercial and Joker laughs, shaking against my arm. He fans out dollar bills between his fingers and cackles. “Hey, ah, hey, Quinnie! Guess where I got these!”

“Where?” 

He peers closely at me and grins, showing his molars. “Cassie Rivera’s penthouse!” He tosses it up in the air and watches cash flutter to the ground. Hundreds. They’re all hundred dollar bills.

“Why’d you destroy her penthouse?” 

He tilts his head at me and grins madly. “I don’t like her smile.” 

“But...the money...it...” I babble, staring at the bills.

“So? I don’t, haha, need it. If I want something, I’ll just take it,” he says lazily, aiming his knife at the door. He throws with deadly aim and hits the middle with a thunk.

“What will you do with it?” 

“Probably give it to the men. They like to shop.” He giggles and gets up to retrieve the knife. Halfway there he turns to me and examines my face. “Do you want some?” 

I scoop up a few bills and let them slip through my fingers. “Nah. I think I’m good.” He gives me everything I need or want. 

“Alright. I’ll be back in a sec. Gotta get something.” Joker slams the door behind himself and returns soon after carrying a box, which he dumps on the table. “Turn the TV off, Quinn. I need to focus on this.”   
I obey as he empties the box and spreads its contents across the table. There are gears and small metal objects and lots of technical papers. I can’t understand a thing. Joker doesn’t seem to notice me come up and peer over his shoulder.  
He mutters something and grabs a pencil from his jacket, then scrawls a few words. “And...ahem...this, he’ll react to a shot...aha!...yes...that’ll do nicely....this goes three times to the right....equivalent to 6.03....” His hands dance madly across the paper, touching here or there, rearranging and building his organized chaos.  
It’s nice to watch him. I’ve never seen him serious, a little crease forming between his eyes as he works. His tongue darts out and licks at his scars every few seconds. I jump when he jabs his knife into a paper, hissing, “Right there,” before he continues.  
After a while I get bored, so I leave him behind with his plans. His place is empty of men, probably because they’re shopping. I wander into one of the lower corridors and get a tad lost. Just as I find my way I hear a small noise nearby.   
I peek around a corner to see Catwoman. Her back is to me as she scrutinized a door, which has always been locked. The smell coming from it is terrible for some reason, almost rusty. I don’t make a sound, but she hears me somehow. She spins and leaps, catching me easily. I close my eyes and prepare for her claws across my face, but nothing comes. 

Instead, she lets me go and steps back. “Hello there,” she murmurs, sheathing her claws. A small sack is cradled in her left arm.

“Hi...” I know I’m supposed to be calling for Joker, because there’s no way Catwoman is supposed to be here, and she’s holding a probably stolen object, but I don’t. 

“Do I know you? Your face is familiar,” she says carefully, peering at my scars. 

“I’m Quinn. Joker kidnapped me a couple months ago.”

She gives me a megawatt smile and nods. “Now I remember.” Catwoman stretches casually and purrs. “How are you still alive? Do you want me to rescue you?” She winks. “Us girls have to stick together.” 

I smile and shake my head. “I don’t need to be rescued. Batman already did that, but I came back to Joker. And he likes my scars, I think. That’s why I’m alive.” 

Her beautiful face is sad. “You’re here willingly? You don’t need to stay, you know. I mean, your face...” She motions awkwardly at my black eye. 

“I like it here. I like Joker. He makes everything interesting, and he thinks my scars are lovely,” I say softly.

“Maybe, but what he did to those men....”

I glance up at her. “Huh? What men?”

She gives me another blinding smile and shakes her head. “Ah, never mind. Don’t want to overwhelm you.” There’s a crash from upstairs that makes us both flinch. She starts running, then looks back at me. “You won’t tell him I was here, will you?”

I shrug. “No. I won’t tell.” Catwoman kisses my forehead in the same place Poison Ivy had.

“Thanks. See you, Quinn.” She’s gone before I can respond.


	5. Jayne

I go upstairs to find the Joker leaning over the table, rubbing his temples. He’s thrown the box of plans across the room. He turns to me with one of his maniac smiles. “It. Won’t. _Work_ ,” he growls. 

“What won’t work?” I ask quietly. 

Joker slams his fist down on the papers. “This!” I wait for him to explain, but he doesn’t. I sit on the bed, kicking my legs back and forth. Joker scribbles something down, crumples it up, and tosses it at my head. “Oy. Quinn.” 

I look up to see him grinning at me, fists balled at his sides. “Yeah?”

“How do you feel about crocodiles?” 

“Er...” 

Joker starts pacing back and forth. “I want to make a _statement_. Do, ha, something BIG. And no one is, haha, _bigger_ than Killer Croc.”

“I know him.”

Joker pauses. “Eh? You know Croc? How?” 

“When you, uh, left me down in the sewers...I met him. He decided not to eat me, and he said I smelled like you. He said we might meet again.” I close my eyes, trying to forget those awful days in the sewer, when all I could see was darkness. 

“Huh. That, haha, that gives me an idea. Quinnie, you’re about to, ha!, serve as bait.”

He brings me down to the sewers and ties me to a chair, explaining that Killer Croc will find me by my smell. I’m so scared my heart is pounding in my throat, but at least Joker is close by. I can hear his laughter every few minutes. “Croc! Killer Croc, _darling_ , come out, come out! I have something I want to talk about!” he calls.  
I shut my eyes tight, praying that Killer Croc will listen to Joker and not eat me. Water drips from the ceiling above. Something is shuffling closer, something huge. The sound seems to fill the sewer, a monster’s footsteps. I scream when something heavy and wet touches my skin.   
Killer Croc stands next to me, resting his hand on my head. I can feel his claws digging into my skull. Joker steps out of the shadows, grinning. “Croc! It’s been a while since we, ha, we last worked together. How are you doing in your sewer?” 

“S’alright. I see you brought your girl.”

Joker pauses for a second. “Eh? Oh! You mean Quinn! Yes, yes I did. It seems, HA!, you two are _friends_.”

Killer Croc removes his paw from my head. “We met, yeah. I wouldn’t say we’re friends.” Killer Croc stands before me, in enough light that I can finally see him clearly. He’s huge, even bigger than Clayface, and built like a brick wall. He’s shaped like a human, mostly, except for the tail and his head. It’s covered in green scales, like the rest of him, but it definitely looks more reptilian. 

His eyes are set back in his head, pupils slits against yellow irises. He has a snout with a mouthful of jagged fangs. I can’t understand how he manages to speak. “I need you for a plan, Croc. I’ve got an idea that’ll really make a SPLASH!” 

Killer Croc crosses his arms over his broad chest. “What do you need me for?” 

“I’ll tell ya, eventually. Right, ha, right now I just need to know if you’ll join me. There’ll be money. _Violence_. Things to kill.” Killer Croc inclines his head. “Good, good. You’ll find me? Here’s....ah...here’s my _card_.”   
He tosses a Joker card at Killer Croc and unties me. I can see Killer Croc examining the card between his claws as Joker pulls me away. He doesn’t bring me back to the warehouse. It’s day time, so we have to lay low for a bit.  
Batman may hunt at night, but the day brings light and visibility. We hide in a sewer under the streets, hearing cars rattle by above. Joker sit across from me, mood quickly sliding into boredom. And a bored Joker is a dangerous Joker. Well, an even more dangerous Joker.  
He takes a knife out and begins flipping it open and closed. I watch the blade, feeling my muscles tense. He inches his way over to me, looking at me with that maniac smile. He presses the blade against my arm, head tilted slightly. It doesn’t hurt. Yet. I keep still as he pulls my head back, bringing the knife to my throat.

“So _pretty_ , so much _skin_ ,” Joker murmurs, tracing the blade along my jugular vein. “I could kill you right now, Quinn. Cut your throat, so much _blood_ , leave you in the sewers for Croc to find,” he whispers. His eyes are intent on mine. I feel almost happy. At least he’s paying attention to me. At least I matter.  
Then the knife is removed, and his hands are at my neck instead, squeezing until my vision goes black at the edges, my fingers scrabbling uselessly at his skin. I can’t breathe. I’m dying. The last thing I’ll see is his smile.   
He lets me go, though. I fall forward onto my hands and knees, gasping for breath. “Not gonna kill you, Quinn. Not today.”

 

I kill someone for him three days later. A man by the name of Phil. He’s the second man I killed, after my mother’s boyfriend, Tom. A gambler. There are spades tattooed on his index fingers. He’s made Joker angry, crossed him on a deal or something like that. Joker is in a playful mood.

“Quinnie! Come, HA!, come down here and see what I’ve _caught_ for you.” I walk down to the main floor of the warehouse to see him, standing by the kneeling gambler. “Quinn, this is Phil. Phil, Quinn. I’m sure you’re both charmed.”   
He winks at me. “Phil’s been _dying_ to, ha!, meet you.” Phil is gagged, but I can hear him begging as sweat trickles down his face.   
His hands are crossed over his chest. Joker takes one of his knives out and touches the blade to the man’s cheek. “What do you think I should cut off first? Your fingers? Your eyes? Your _tongue_?” He steps back and examines him, grinning. “Or would you like it to be quick and painless?”   
Phil nods, obviously hoping for the easy way out. “Quinn. Come here.” I obediently go to Joker’s side. “I want you to kill this man,” he says evenly, holding the knife out.   
I take it. It seems heavier than I remember a knife being. The gambler leans away from me as I step closer, feeling excited and a little sick. I’ve changed so much in the past months. I’m holding a fucking knife to someone’s throat, for God’s sake.   
“Quinn, I don’t have all day,” Joker says, pretending to check his watch. 

“I....I...” I don’t even know where to begin. When I’d killed Tom it had been spur of the moment, almost accidental. This is different. I can feel Phil’s jugular vein under my fingertips, smell his sweat. He’s crying. Joker sighs impatiently and stands behind me, wrapping his hands around mine. 

“You see, Quinn, it’s really simple. You just tilt the head back, like so, and tug,” he says matter of factly, helping me kill the man. Blood spills over our fingertips as we slit his throat.   
I smile up at Joker, hoping he’ll be proud. He grins down and pats my head, muttering, “So much for keeping you from being a criminal.”

 

A week later Joker kidnaps Catwoman. I wake up that night to chaos. His men are rushing downstairs, eyes bright with anticipation. I dress and follow. She’s tied to a chair in the middle of the floor, stripped of her claws and whip. 

She hisses at whoever comes close. Her suit is ripped and dirty, and her mouth bleeds. Joker stands behind her, grinning smugly. “Alright boys, settle down,” he calls, and the room goes silent. Joker leans over Catwoman, running a finger along her jaw line.  
She snarls and tries to bite him, but he slaps her. Hard. I wince at the sound, ashamed to be watching. This is _Catwoman_ , hero of the Narrows. My idol, being slapped by my obsession. “Shut up. Anywho, I caught you at last, kitty. You didn’t think I’d miss you ruining my last bank robbery, did you?”   
His voice changes from sticky sweet to an angry growl. “It’s clear you’ve joined the Bat Pack, and that _cannot go forgiven_ ,” he yells, shaking her. “I’ve got plans for you, Catwoman. Plans involving Killer Croc and you in pieces, left in the Harbor for Batman to find. A tiny drowned kitten. Won’t he just be _thrilled?_ ”  
Joker cackles and pulls her head back, tracing his knife along her throat. “Put her in one of the cells, boys.” I feel sick as I watch them carry her away, imagining Killer Croc’s jagged teeth crunching into her skin, crushing her bones.   
Surely Joker won’t be that angry if she escapes, and he doesn’t have to know it was me. I swallow nervously as he walks towards me and hope he can’t sense the plans forming in my head. He gives me a grin, wrapping his hands in my hair. “Catwoman’s gonna _die_ , Quinn. I’m, ha!, I’m gonna hear her last meow.” 

 

I let her loose that night. I steal sleeping gas from Joker and go downstairs. He doesn’t wake up to catch me. I’m uncomfortable using the gas, because it reminds me of Scarecrow, but I manage. The guards are asleep in seconds, and I slip into Catwoman’s cell. She isn’t sleeping.

She stares at me with vivid green eyes. “I remember you. You’re the girl from the hallway.” Her face softens for just an instant. “Your bruises are healing.” I nod.   
I have every opportunity to free her, but my hands are shaking. I can’t make up my mind. “Are you here to free me? I would really appreciate it.” She gives me a strained smile. “I don’t want to be eaten by Croc.” 

“He’ll be so mad,” I whisper.

Her eyes narrow. “Joker’s a madman. He kills without mercy.” I nod. “Do you really want to be a part of that?” she asks softly. 

I sigh. “Yes. I do. But I’ll let you go anyway.” I untie her hands and she stands, stretching. “You’re a hero where I grew up. I just....I couldn’t let you die.”

Catwoman smiles at me and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re my hero right now. I won’t forget this.” She runs off into the night, leaving me alone with Joker.

 

I think I’ve gotten away with it. I creep back into the room and into bed. Then the lock clicks. Joker’s standing by the door, grinning at me. “Quinnie, what have you been up to?” he murmurs.

“I freed Catwoman,” I blurt out, then clap my hands over my mouth. I’m so fucking stupid sometimes. 

“That wasn’t very smart, Quinnie,” he whispers, walking closer to me, “because now I’m going to fucking _kill you_ ,” he roars, hitting me across the face. Everything goes black for a second as I realize he’s been holding back.  
He grabs me by the throat and throws me to the floor, then punches me in the mouth. I hear something crack and know he’s broken my jaw. The pain is dazzling. I can’t breathe, can’t think. He hurls me against the wall, hard enough that I break through the plaster.   
I don’t bother begging for mercy. I know I deserve this. He laughs the whole time, giggling as he kicks my ribs until they snap. I’m coughing blood, in so much pain that death seems a mercy. I hear the click of his knife and know he’s going to kill me. I close my eyes, try to think of the good times, the first time I’d seen him smile at me, the day he’d truly shown me the Narrows, committing our first crime. Then the door slams open. 

“Police! Drop your weapons and put your hands up!” Joker’s wrestled away from me, and I’m picked up by rough arms.

“Looks like we’ve finally caught the Joker and his bitch,” someone mutters, and I know I’m no longer presumed innocent. I pass out when they toss me into a police car. My last thought is that Catwoman had probably tipped them off. I would have preferred death. 

I’m brought to the police station and left in a cell. No comforting words, no pity, no salves to heal my wounds. For some reason I like it better that way. Seems honest. Gotham has finally seen my true side. I puke blood into the toilet and curl up on the cot, watching blood drip from my fingertips.   
Everything aches. I can’t focus on anything else. I black out again. Batman is in my cell when I wake up. He suits it perfectly. My wounds have been bandaged. 

“Batman?” My voice is even raspier than usual. His eyes flick to me and he frowns. 

“Why?” 

“Huh?” 

Batman leans forward in a move oddly similar to Joker, hands clenched on his thighs. “I thought I saved you. I thought you were getting away, but you ran straight back to him.” He pounds his fist on his leg and says, “Another person lost to that _monster_.”

“I wasn’t lost. I knew exactly where I was.” I touch the tattoo on the back of my neck and grin. “I belong to him. I belong to him forever,” I giggle, on the edge of hysteria. “I belong to Joker.” 

“He doesn’t want you. He never did. He’s a psychopath,” Batman says harshly, looming over me. “He used you for his own amusement. The only things he ever gave you are scars.”

“I love him. I love the Joker.” I giggle again. “Forever and ever.”

Batman looks down at me with disgust. “You’re as mad as he is.” He leaves the cell, and I laugh until I can’t breathe.

 

I don’t see the Joker for three weeks, until our trial. The police want me to be a witness against him. I laugh in their faces. I’m beginning to think that Batman was right. I have gone mad. I’m forced to wear a straitjacket to the trial. It’s heavily televised.   
Reporters by the dozens are mobbed outside the courthouse, pushing microphones in everyone’s face. I’m brought through a back entrance, but they still catch me. “Quinn, how did you handle living with the Joker?”

“Quinn, explain your relationship with the Joker. Are you his lover?” 

“What are the Joker’s plans for Gotham?” I close my eyes, trying to ignore their constant questions. I don’t feel so crazy, or so brave, anymore. There are people spitting at me, threatening and throwing things. I want to run as far away as I can and hide. But I have to go to trial.   
Joker is there. I see him and my heart beats faster, painful against the ribs he’d broken. The makeup is gone and his green hair hangs limply in his face. He’s strapped to a board and watched by six guards. I think they drugged him, too. He’s chuckling softly.  
I zone out the rest of the room and focus on Joker, only Joker. He never looks my way. I’ve betrayed him, so he’s forgotten me. I come back to myself when the judge’s gavel bangs. “Guilty. Send to Arkham.”

Me. The judge is talking about me. I’m sentenced to Arkham Asylum, the place that had created Scarecrow. I scream so loud my teeth shake, struggling against the straitjacket.  
“No, no, please, no! Joker, please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please take me back, I belong to you, I belong to you! No, no, don’t let them take me there, Joker please, I love you!” I shriek as I’m dragged from the room. He doesn’t spare me a glance.

 

That was the last time I saw Joker in person. I’ve been in Arkham five years now, and the thought of him still makes my heart race. I’m sure he’ll come back for me, forgive the Catwoman incident so we can be together again.  
I used to scream his name every night, howled until my scars split and gave me a nastier grin. I was declared insane, stuffed in a cell, and forgotten. I get sustenance, exercise, and the occasional therapist. No one goes near the inmate with the Joker’s smile.  
Joker escaped a few months after we were sentenced here. When he didn’t come back for me, the hope started running out. I know he’s been captured and sentenced back here a few times, but I’ve never seen him. Sometimes I imagine I can hear his laughter echoing through the halls, and I laugh myself.  
He’s got a new girl, a former doctor named Harley Quinn. She’s beautiful. Doesn’t have any scars that I can see. I still have scars from him, and the two tattoos. I remember his promise to mark me all over and I cry.   
I wonder if he thinks of me whenever he says Harley Quinn’s name. I’m still sure he’ll come back for me. He can’t have forgotten me, no matter what my therapists say. After all, he loves me...right? I’m waiting for him to peer through the bars of my cell and murmur, “Hey, Quinn....Give me a smile.”


End file.
